/

• ;*> ;

i 1 , ? '

j

<• . ■

y*

ify> •

X. *• •• •:

•)

.<>41

1

r

'.iM

i

V

f

> -

’ i. ' ;

A

j

Charles Dickens

At the beginning of his literary career. From the
portrait by his friend Maclise. Courtesy
of the National Gallery

DICKENS'S

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

ABRIDGED AND MODIFIED BY

!Vf CAROLYN PULCIFER TIMM

DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH, STANFORD JUNIOR HIGH
SCHOOL, SACRAMENTO, CALIFORNIA

With Illustrations by

DOROTHY RITTENHOUSE MORGAN

D. C. HEATH AND COMPANY

BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO

ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO DALLAS

LONDON

HEATH’S GOLDEN KEY SERIES

The following titles , among many others, are available
or in preparation :

POETRY

Arnold’s sohrab and rustum and other poems
browning’s shorter poetry
french’s recent poetry

GUINDON AND O’KEEFE’S JUNIOR HIGH SCHOOL

'prL3

3

o

POETRY

milton’s shorter poems
scott’s lady of the lake
tennyson’s idylls of the king

FICTION

cooper’s LAST OF THE MOHICANS
eliot’s silas marner
eliot’s mill on the floss
hawthorne’s house of the seven gables

TALES FROM HAWTHORNE

dickens’s tale of two cities ( entire )

dickens’s tale of two cities {edited for rapid reading)

scott’s ivanhoe

SCOTT’S QUENTIN DURWARD

WILLIAMS AND LIEBER’s PANORAMA OF THE SHORT
STORY

OTHER TITLES

ADDISON AND STEELE’S SIR ROGER DE COVERLEY
PAPERS

boswell’s life of Johnson ( selections )
burke’s on conciliation

PHILLIPS AND GEISLER’s GLIMPSES INTO THE WORLD
OF SCIENCE

CHAMBERLAIN’S A MIRROR FOR AMERICANS

( essays by Lowell and others about ourselves and our neighbors )
macaulay’s johnson
french’s old testament narratives
Shakespeare’s julius caesar
Shakespeare’s midsummer night’s dream

Copyright, 1930

By D. C. Heath and Company

2 K 9

Printed in the United States of America

(330 ©CIA 17847

JAN 13

This Edition of
Nicholas Nickleby
Is Affectionately Dedicated to
Ernestine Timm-Harris
By Her Mother

PREFACE

The editor of this edition has rearranged the sequence
of events in chronological order, to assist pupils in
following so complicated a plot. She has made some omis¬
sions and some explanations very necessary to Americans;
for the main thing is to introduce the pupil to a rapid and
dramatic story, not to bewilder him with notes and to ob¬
scure the plot with difficult and often unimportant Briti¬
cisms. But the story she has left absolutely intact, and in
simplifying an occasional word or sentence she has in each
case intended to preserve the Dickens style and spirit.

The lesson helps have a twofold purpose : to help the pupil
to study independently and to lighten the “ teacher load ”
by offering a variety of suggestions for provocative discus¬
sion and projects.

C. P. T.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Preface .

Introduction (Life of Charles Dickens)
Principal Characters
Nicholas Nickleby . .

Questions and Exercises

PAGE

vi

ix

xxi

1

593

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Charles Dickens . Frontispiece

PAGE

Of which delicious compound she administered a large
installment to each boy in succession .... 45

“ Just so, Mr. Nickleby,” said Madame Mantalini.

“ Can you speak French, child ? ” .... 81

“Farewell, my noble, my lion-hearted boy! ” . . 261

The brothers hurried him out, shaking hands with him
all the way . 317

" Here he is, father. Hooray ! ” vibrated in his ears 349

Into a front room he was shown . 411

Nothing was visible but a pair of legs .... 423

“ What would you say to me if I was to tell you — that I
was — going to be married ? ” . 443

vm

INTRODUCTION

Why Dickens Is Great

THE people we remember longest are those who have
had much influence, who have caused greater things to
happen, or not to happen, than those about them. It is
necessary to discover in what manner Charles Dickens had
such great influence, what he caused to happen which
showed greater strength than that of others about him,
what made him stand above other people not only of his
own time but of all times. For there is no doubt that
Charles Dickens is better remembered than any other novel¬
ist. He has been not only the most popular novelist of the
nineteenth century but is still the writer whose books, as a
whole, have had a greater sale than those of any other novel¬
ist of the present day. During the World War there were
more of these novels read in the army camps than any others.

Success is measured by the handicaps overcome as well
as by surpassing achievements. Dickens showed his great
strength, courage, and remarkable personality by overcom¬
ing the two very great handicaps of poverty and lack of
education. He was born at Landport in Portsea on the
southern coast of England, February 7, 1812, being the sec¬
ond child in the family, of which there were six more chil¬
dren later. His father, John Dickens, was a clerk in the
navy pay office with a salary of eighty pounds a year
(about $388), not enough for such a large family even in
those times when money had greater value than in later
times. Although the salary was increased afterwards to
three hundred and fifty pounds (about $1697) his father
was never able to live within his income. He seemed to be
always poor and improvident, a man of considerable ability
but not capable of any kind of financial management.

ix

X

INTRODUCE ION

Dickens’s Boyhood

The boyhood of Dickens was probably quite unhappy, for
it was full of hardship and worry. Much of the story of
David Copperfield was his own life and Mr. Micawber (in
the same book), genial, hopeful, sorrowful, despairing, jolly,
easy-going, always waiting for “ something to turn up ” was
the character of his own father. Mrs. Dickens is said to
have been a great deal like Mrs. Nickleby — not very intel¬
lectual, impractical, often rather simple and almost frivo¬
lous, although always kind, affectionate, and of excellent
character. At one time Mrs. Dickens tried to help out the
family income by starting a private school for young ladies.
On the front door was a door-plate reading, “ Mrs. Dick¬
ens’s Establishment.” Charles was sent around to dis¬
tribute circulars describing the advantages of this school;
but though he left these at many doors, nobody ever came
to the school, and he could not remember seeing his mother
make any preparation for receiving pupils if they should
come. But his mother taught him to read when he was very
young and also to construe a little Latin, which showed that
she was above the average mother of those times.

At the age of eight began the first regular school expe¬
rience of Charles Dickens. For one year he attended the
school of a Mr. Giles in Clover Lane, Chatham, where John
Dickens, his father, happened to be stationed at the time!
Mr. Giles did a great deal for the young boy with his sym¬
pathy, intelligence, and ability to interest him in books. It
was here that Dickens began to read a great deal. When
the child was almost ten years old, the family moved to
London; and on account of the constantly increasing pov¬
erty of his father, they were forced to live in a very poor
house in one of the poorest of the London suburbs. About
those early years Dickens said : “ I know that we got on
very badly with the butcher and baker; and that very often
we had not too much for dinner; and that at last my father
was arrested.”

He was arrested because he could not pay his bills, and

DICKENS’S BOYHOOD

xi

placed in the Marshalsea Prison for debtors. Dickens has
left a description of his first visit to his father in prison.
“ My father was waiting for me in the lodge, and we
went up to his room (on the story next to the top but
one), and cried very much. And he told me, I remember,
to take warning by the Marshalsea, and to observe that if a
man had twenty pounds a year, and spent nineteen pounds,
nineteen shillings, and sixpence, he would be happy; but a
shilling spent the other way would make him wretched. I
see the fire we sat before, now; with two bricks inside
the rusted grate, one on each side, to prevent its burning
too many coals. Some other debtor shared the room
with him, who came in by and by; and as the dinner was
a joint-stock repast, I was sent up to 1 Captain Porter ’
in the room overhead, with Mr. Dickens’s compliments
and I was his son, and could he, Captain P. lend me a
knife and fork? ”

Later he said : “ I know my father to be as kind-hearted
and generous a man as ever lived in the world. Every¬
thing that I can remember of his conduct to his wife, or
children, or friends, in sickness or affliction is beyond all
praise. By me, as a sick child, he has watched night and
day, unweariedly and patiently many nights and days. He
never undertook any business charge, or trust that he did
not jealously, conscientiously, punctually, honorably, dis¬
charge. His industry has always been untiring. He was
proud of me, in his way. . . . But in the ease of his tem¬
per, and the straitness of his means, he appeared to have
utterly lost at this time the idea of educating me at all, and
to have utterly put from him the notion that I had any
claim upon him, in that regard, whatever. So I degenerated
into cleaning his boots of a morning, and my own; and mak¬
ing myself useful in the work of the little house; and looking
after my younger brothers and sisters; and going on such
errands as arose out of our poor way of living:” In The Un¬
commercial Traveler Dickens gives a picture of himself as a
child. He was a “very queer small boy,” nine years old,
with delicate health;, fond of reading, having read many

Xll

INTRODUCTION

books unusual to be read by so young a child. In David
Copperfield a list of these books is given which included
Roderick Random , Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker,
Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Bias,
and Robinson Crusoe. He tells us also that he used to
impersonate the characters Tom Jones or Roderick for
weeks at a time.

When Charles was twelve years old, a relative who had
recently become interested in the blacking business sug¬
gested that the boy take a position in this warehouse; so he
went to work for the firm, pasting labels on bottles and
boxes, a job that he thoroughly detested. He said of him¬
self during that time: “No words can express the secret
agony of my soul as I sunk into this companionship ; com¬
pared these every-day associates with those of my happier
childhood; and felt my early hopes of growing up to be a
learned and distinguished man crushed in my breast. The
deep remembrance of the sense I had of being utterly neg¬
lected and hopeless; of the shame I felt in my position; of
the misery it was to my young heart to believe that, day by
day, what I had learned, and thought, and delighted in, and
raised my fancy and my emulation up by, was passing away
from me, never to be brought back any more, cannot be
written. My whole nature was so penetrated with grief
and humiliation of such considerations that even now, fa¬
mous and caressed and happy, I often forget in my dreams
that I have a dear wife and children; even that I am a man;
and wander desolately back to that time of my life. . . .
At last, one day, my father and the relative quarreled, quar¬
reled by letter, for I took the letter from my father to him
which caused the explosion, but quarreled very fiercely. It
was about me. All that I am certain of is that soon after I
had given him the letter, my cousin (he was a sort of cousin
by marriage) told me he was very much insulted about me,
and that it was impossible to keep me after that. I cried
very much, partly because it was so sudden, and partly be¬
cause in his anger he was violent about my father, though
gentle to me. Thomas, the old soldiex, comforted me, and

DICKENS TURNS REPORTER xiii

said he was sure it was for the best. With a relief so strange
that it was like oppression, I went home.

“ My mother set herself to accommodate the quarrel, and
did so next day. She brought home a request for me to re¬
turn next morning, and a high character of me, which I am
very sure I deserved. My father said I should go back no
more, and should go to school. I do not write resentfully
or angrily, for I know how all these things have worked
together to make me what I am; but I never afterwards
forgot, I never shall forget, I never can forget, that my
mother was warm for my being sent back.”

He was twelve when he left the blacking warehouse, and
up to this time he had felt lonely and neglected very many
times. Now he was sent to school at Wellington House
Academy for about two years. This was his last school ex¬
perience. The school, although not an extra fine one, gave
him the companionship which he had always wanted. He
was a day scholar for about two years. This period did not
seem to make much impression on his mind, except to
brighten his life and make his disposition more cheerful.
From twelve to fourteen he worked as an attorney’s clerk
at a salary of thirteen shillings sixpence a week, afterward
increased to fifteen shillings. Here he picked up the knowl¬
edge of human life, criminals, law, and judicial proceedings
which he used so effectively in his stories. But he did not
intend to be a lawyer’s clerk all his life. His father, after
leaving the debtor’s prison, had taken up journalism, and
Charles decided to follow his example. He began the study
of shorthand, working very hard at this. At the same time
he spent much time reading in the library of the British
Museum.

Dickens Turns Reporter

In a year or two he became an expert stenographer. He
was nineteen when he became a reporter for the True Sun
and entered the gallery of the House of Commons to report
the proceedings for the paper. When he was twenty-three

XIV

INTRODUCTION

he became a reporter for the Morning Chronicle; and from
this time his future as a writer seemed established. He
soon began to write for periodicals. His first article was a
little story called “ A Dinner at Poplar Walk.” This, he
says, he dropped very secretly into “ a dark letter box in a
dark office up a dark court in Fleet-Street.” It was printed
in the Old Monthly Magazine when he was twenty-one
years old. He was overcome with joy at this event. “ I
walked down to Westminster Hall” he later wrote, “and
turned into it for half an hour, because my eyes were so
dimmed with joy and pride that they could not bear the
streets and were not fit to be seen there.”

Other articles were printed in the same magazine and
were later collected and printed in two small volumes under
the title of Sketches by Boz (an old family nickname in the
Dickens family) . These little sketches give a good descrip¬
tion of London in the time of Dickens. They were favor¬
ably received and encouraged the author to attempt more
writing.

As a new writer he was asked to write a series of comic
sketches on sporting subjects. It was suggested that he
write the adventures of the members of some eccentric club.
So Dickens wrote the Pickwick Payers. The story came
out in twenty monthly installments, costing one shilling a
number, and finally was published in book form. This story
made Dickens famous, and he was asked to write more
stories. A new class of characters representing certain odd
phases of life became well known to the public. Mr. Pick¬
wick, Sam Weller, Mr. Winkle, and others were made fa¬
miliar to all peoples. There was an enormous demand for
copies of these stories. Dickens remained just as popular
to the day of his death. In England alone, during the
twelve years succeeding his death, more than 4,239,000
volumes were sold. Before he had finished Pickwick, he
began work on Oliver Twist, and the two were running in
monthly installments at the same time.

He made his characters, who were almost always poor and
humble people, enormously popular; and he did a great deal

XV

DICKENS IN AMERICA

toward making their lot an easier one. In Oliver Twist he
denounced the wretched way in which poorhouses cared for
their dependents. In Nicholas Nickleby he 'described Mr.
Squeers’s school so vividly that several masters threatened
to sue him for describing a school which their guilty con¬
sciences recognized as their own. In Bleak House he sati¬
rized the slow and expensive procedure of the courts.

Dickens in America

It was a great test of his strength of character when he
visited America in 1842, for the Americans were so glad to
see him that he was treated much as Lindbergh was treated
when he landed in Paris. There was one continuous joyful
celebration and a most tremendous desire to see him all the
time he was in America. Describing that time in some of
his letters, he said: “ How can I give you the faintest notion
of my reception here; of the crowds that pour in and out
the whole day; of the people that line the streets when I go
out; of the cheering when I went to the theater; of the
copies of verses of congratulation, welcomes of all kinds,
balls, dinners, assemblies without end? . . . What can I
tell you about any of these things which will give you the
slightest notion of the enthusiastic greeting they give me,
or the cry that runs through the whole country! ”

The public did not give him any rest day or night. When
he went through New England, his journey was like that
of a president of the United States. At some of the smaller
cities through which he passed, almost the entire population
turned out, and the train was stopped to give the people a
chance to see him. In the larger cities where he spoke there
were gigantic receptions before and after the lecture. Re¬
garding more of his visit he said: “ Dana, the author of Two
Years Before the Mast , is a very nice fellow indeed; and in
appearance not at all the man you would expect. He is
short, mild looking, and has a care worn /face. The pro¬
fessors at the Cambridge University, Longfellow, Felton,
Jared Sparks, are noble fellows. Bancroft is a famous man;

XVI

INTRODUCTION

a straightforward, manly, earnest heart. Dr. Channing I
will tell you more of, after I have breakfasted with him.
We leave here next Saturday. We go to a town called
Worcester, about seventy-five miles off, to the house of the
governor of this place; and stay with him all Sunday. On
Monday we go on by railroad about fifty miles farther to a
town called Springfield, where I am met by a 1 reception
committee ’ from Hartford twenty miles farther, and carried
on by the multitude. On Wednesday I have a public dinner
there. On Friday I shall be obliged to present myself m
public again, at a place called New Haven, about thirty
miles farther. On Saturday evening I hope to be in New
York.” In this place he met Washington Irving for whom
he had much admiration. His stay in Washington is de¬
scribed in his own words: “ I have the privilege of appear¬
ing on the floor of both houses here, and go to them every
day. They are very handsome and commodious. There is a
great deal of bad speaking, but there are a very great many
remarkable men, in the legislature; such as John Quincy
Adams, Clay, Preston, . Calhoun, and others: with whom I
need scarcely add I have been placed in the friendliest rela¬
tions. Adams is a fine old fellow — seventy-six years old,
but with the most surprising vigor, memory, readiness and
pluck. Clay is perfectly enchanting; an irresistible man.
There are some very noble specimens, too, out of the West.
Splendid men to look at, hard to deceive, prompt to act,
lions in energy, Indians in quickness of eye and gesture,
Americans in affectionate and generous impulse.

But all this admiration and love for Dickens by the
Americans did not blind him to their faults any more than
the affection of his own people blinded him to the faults of
the English nation. When he reached home after his visit
Dickens published a volume called American Notes, in
which he gave some fine descriptions of his visits and criti¬
cized favorably and unfavorably. It is interesting to know
that this book was the means of Helen Keller’s beginning
her education. As she was deaf and blind since she was a
little more than a year old, her future seemed hopeless.

THE HEIGHT OF FAME xvii

One day when she was six her mother remembered reading
in Dickens’s American Notes the description of the marvel¬
ous achievements of the deaf and blind girl Laura Bridgman,
who was educated in a school in Boston which Dickens had
praised very highly. Mrs, Keller sent to this school for a
teacher for Helen, and Miss Anne Sullivan (Mrs. Macey)
was sent, one of the most wonderful teachers the world has
ever known. The miraculous attainments of Helen Keller
are known to all peoples at the present time. (Mark
Twain said that Helen Kellet and Napoleon were the two
most interesting characters of the nineteenth century.)

As the years went by, novels followed one another in
rapid succession. After American Notes came Martin Chuz -
zlewit, also containing descriptions of American life. Then,
after a trip abroad during which he still wrote, Dickens be¬
came manager of a group of amateur actors at Manchester.
They called themselves the “ Splendid Strollers ” and under
Dickens’s direction became quite famous. They played the
rollicking comedy of Ben Jonson, Every Man in His Hu¬
mour. In 1852 they presented a farce entitled Mr. Night¬
ingale before Queen Victoria.

The greatest novel of all came out in 1850. David Cop -
perfield contains the humor and pathos of his earlier works
with his ability at character drawing finally developing into
character building, which most critics consider a still higher
and more difficult form of art.

The Height of Fame

During the last years of his life, when he was about fifty-
eight, Dickens gave readings from his own books. From the
favorable position in which the public held him Dickens felt
sure that he would be well received, and he was not at all
disappointed. In fact, he was more successful than he had
imagined he could be. This was due to his dramatic ability
as well as to his interesting readings and his popularity with
people in general. He soon began to memorize all his selec¬
tions for his readings which made him still more entertain-

XV111

INTRODUCTION

ing. After traveling over the British Isles, he visited the
United States for the second time to give readings in this
country also. Here he was again received with wild enthu¬
siasm and his readings were wonderfully popular. He said,
regarding this time: “It is really impossible to exaggerate
the magnificence of the reception or the effect of the read¬
ing. The whole city will talk of nothing else to-day. Every
ticket for those announced here [Boston] and in New York,
is sold.” Dickens gave readings in Philadelphia, Washing¬
ton, Baltimore, Buffalo, Albany, Springfield, Portland,
Maine, and in every place he went he was given the same
ovation. But his health began to decline before he left this
country. Such hard and constant work for so many years
showed its effect in a weakened constitution.

When he returned to England, however, he wished to
make one more series of readings. The Mystery of Edwin
Drood was the subject which was appearing in the maga¬
zine All the Year Round. This story gave promise of being
the best of any of the previous novels. But it was never
finished. The mystery was never solved. Dickens died
very suddenly at his home, Gadshill Place, near Rochester,
on June 9, 1870. He was buried in Westminster Abbey.
Almost the whole world mourned the loss of this greatest
writer of the nineteenth century. In his will he said re¬
garding his funeral : “ I emphatically direct that I be buried
in an inexpensive, unostentatious, and strictly private man¬
ner; that no public announcement be made of the time or
place of my burial; that at the utmost not more than three
plain mourning coaches be employed, and that those who
attend my funeral wear no scarf, cloak, black bow, long hat
band, or other such revolting absurdity. I direct that my
name be inscribed in plain English letters on my tomb with¬
out the addition of ‘ Mr/ or ‘ Esquire/ I conjure my friends
on no account to make me the subject of any monument,
memorial, or testimonial whatever. I rest my claims to the
remembrance of my country upon my published works, and
to the remembrance of my friends upon their experience of
me in addition thereto.” Everything was done that could

THE HEIGHT OF FAME

xix

possibly be done to carry out these wishes, but no one could
have prevented the great display of grief in nearly every
country and the many testimonials to his memory. Dickens
had ten children, seven of whom were living at the time of
his death.

Carlyle described the appearance of Dickens in a letter
to John Carlyle in 1840.* “ He is a fine little fellow — Boz,
I think. Clear blue, intelligent eyes, eyebrows that he
arches amazingly. Large, protrusive, rather loose mouth, a
face of most extreme mobility, which he shuttles about —
eyebrows, eyes, mouth and all — in a very singular manner
while speaking ... a quiet, shrewd-looking little fellow, who
seems to guess pretty well that he is and what others are.”

Daniel Webster said that Dickens had done more to bet¬
ter the condition of the English poor than all the statesmen
Great Britain had sent into Parliament.

Of all the works of Charles Dickens Nicholas Nickleby is
perhaps the most entertaining. One source of our enter¬
tainment in stories is in seeing others engaged in a strug¬
gle which oftentimes is greater than the one we are making
with life. Practically all games and all recreations involve
a struggle, just as life does. So all literature which rep¬
resents life truly must show some contest or struggle. Be¬
cause Nicholas Nickleby is in such a contest and because he is
such a good fighter, we like his character and enjoy his story.

There is a great deal of action in this narrative, for events
crowd on one another, and the enemies of Nicholas are strong
with wealth and power. Nicholas is the leader of one side, of
course, with about eight who sympathize with him. His uncle
leads the enemy, with perhaps sixteen strong allies. Smike,
Madeline, and Brooker belong to neither side at first, but
their final decision and sympathy determine the victory.

Dickens’s idea for his novel of Nicholas Nickleby grew out of
real life. The cruel treatment of boys in Yorkshire schools
came to the attention of the author, and his indignation was
strongly aroused. He decided to strike these schools a hard
blow — with the weapon of public ridicule. He was so suc¬
cessful that several Yorkshire schoolmasters threatened to

XX

INTRODUCTION

sue him for libel, saying that he was describing their own in¬
stitutions. The picture of Wackford Squeers and Dothe-
boys Hall caused a sweeping reform.

Like all the works of this author, the characters and con¬
ditions described are founded on facts. Two characters were
taken from real life. These were the two Cheeryble brothers,
two of the best people ever portrayed in or out of fiction.
They were greatly beloved by Charles Dickens, who was
well acquainted with these German merchants.

Suggestions for Themes and Precis Writing

1. Write one paragraph on the life of Charles Dickens, of
two hundred words, describing his home life, education, work,
and books in general.

2. Prepare an oral composition on three events during the
time of Dickens.

3. Prepare an oral composition on three contemporaries of
Dickens, telling for what reason each one is well remembered.

PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

Nicholas Nickleby
Kate Nickleby, his sister
Mrs. Nickleby, his mother
Ralph Nickleby, his uncle

Miss La Creevy, landlady to the Nickleby s and a miniature
painter

Wackford Squeers, Headmaster and owner of Dotheboys
Hall

Mrs. Squeers, his wife
Master Wackford Squeers, his son
Fannie Squeers, his daughter
Smike

Matilda Price, friend of Fannie
John Browdie, fiance of Matilda
Newman Noggs, clerk to Ralph Nickleby
Mr. Vincent Crummles, actor-manager
Mr. Snawley

Sir Mulberry HAWrK, Lord Verisopht, Mr. Pyke, Mr.
Pluck

Charles Cheeryble, Ned Cheeryble, Frank Cheeryble
Tim Linkinwater, clerk to Cheeryble Brothers
Madeline Bray, Mr. Bray
Arthur Gride
Peg Sliderskew

Mr. Mantalini, Madame Mantalini

Mrs. Witterly, Mr. Witterly

Miss Knag, employed by Madame Mantalini

Mr. Brooker

The Mad Gentleman

xxi

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER I

MR. RALPH NICKLEBY took a cordial farewell of
his fellow speculators and bent his steps homeward in
unwonted good humour. As he passed Saint Paul’s he stepped
aside into a doorway to set his watch, and with his hand on
the key and his eye on the cathedral dial, was intent upon
so doing, when a man suddenly stopped before him. It was
Newman Noggs, his clerk.

“ Ah, Newman,” said Mr. Nickleby, looking up, “ the
letter about the mortgage has come, has it? I thought it
would.”

“ Wrong.”

“ What ! And nobody called respecting it ? ”

Noggs shook his head.
f What has come, then ? ”
r I have.”

“ What else ? ” demanded his master, sternly.

“ This,” said Newman, drawing a sealed letter slowly
from his pocket.

“Black wax, black border; I know something of that
writing, too. Newman, I shouldn’t be surprised if my brother
were dead.”

“ I don’t think you would,” said Newman, quietly.

“ Why not, sir? ”

“You never are surprised — that’s all.”

2

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Mr. Nickleby snatched the letter from his assistant, and
fixing a cold look upon him, opened, read it, put it in his
pocket, and having set his watch correctly to a second, began
winding it up.

“ It is as I expected, Newman. He is dead. Dear me.
Well, that’s a sudden thing. I shouldn’t have thought it,
really.” With these touching expressions of sorrow, Mr.
Nickleby put his watch into his pocket, and fitting on his
gloves to a nicety, turned upon his way, and walked slowly
along with his hands behind him.

“ Children alive? ” inquired Newman, stepping up to him.

“ Why, that’s the very thing,” replied Mr. Nickleby, as
though his thoughts were about them at that moment.
“ They are both alive.”

“ Both! ” repeated Newman Noggs, in a low voice.

“ And the widow, too,” added Mr. Nickleby, “ and all
three in London, confound them — all three here, Newman.”

Newman fell a little behind his master, and his face was
curiously twisted as by a spasm; but whether of grief or
inward laughter, nobody but himself could possibly explain.

“ Go home! ” said Mr. Nickleby, after they had walked
a few paces, looking round at the clerk as if he were his dog.
The words were scarcely uttered when Newman darted across
the road, slunk among the crowd, and disappeared in an in¬
stant.

“ Reasonable, certainly! ” muttered Mr. Nickleby to him¬
self, as he walked on, “ very reasonable ! My brother never
did anything for me, and I never expected it. The breath is
no sooner out of his body than I am to be looked to as the
support of a great hearty woman and a grown boy and girl.
What are they to me! I never saw them.”

Full of these reflections Mr. Nickleby went to that part of
London where these relatives were staying and stopped at
a private dwelling in a crowded thoroughfare.

3

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

A miniature painter lived in this place, for there was a
large gilt frame screwed upon the street door, in which were
displayed, upon black velvet, many kinds of small hand-
painted portraits. Mr. Nickleby glanced at these with great
contempt and gave a double knock, which, having been
three times repeated, was answered by a servant girl.

“ Is Mrs. Nickleby at home? ” demanded Ralph, sharply.

“ Her name ain’t Nickleby,” said the girl, “ La Creevy, you
mean.”

“ Who is wanted, Hannah ? ” asked a female voice, at the
end of the hall.

“ Mrs. Nickleby,” said Ralph.

“ the second floor, Hannah,” said the same voice, “ what
a stupid thing you are! Is the second floor at home,
Hannah ? ”

“ Somebody went out just now, but I think it was the
attic which had been acleaning of himself,” replied the girl.

“ You had better see,” said the invisible female. “ Show
the gentleman where the bell is, and tell him he mustn’t
knock double knocks for the second floor.”

“Here,” said Ralph, walking in, “I beg your pardon; is
that Mrs. La what’s-her-name ? ”

“ Creevy — La Creevy,” replied the voice, as a yellow
headdress bobbed over the banisters.

“ I’ll speak to you a moment, ma’am, with your leave,”
said Ralph.

The voice replied that the gentleman was to walk up ; but
he had walked up before it spoke, and wras received by the
wearer of the yellow headdress, who had a gown to correspond
and was of much the same color herself. Miss La Creevy was
a mincing young lady of fifty, and Miss La Creevy’s apart¬
ment looked like the gilt frame downstairs on a larger scale.

“ I infer from what you said to your servant that the floor
above belongs to you, ma’am?” said Mr. Ralph Nickleby.

4

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Yes. The upper part of the house belongs to me. There
is a lady from the country and her two children in them at
present.”

“ A widow, ma’am ? ”

“ Yes, she is a widow,” replied the lady.

“ A poor widow, ma’am,” said Ralph.

“ Well, I am afraid she is poor.”

“ I happen to know that she is. Now, what business has
a poor widow in such a house as this? I know her circum¬
stances intimately, ma’am; in fact I am a relation of the
family, and I should recommend you not to keep them here.”

“ I should hope, if there was any inability to meet the
expense, the lady’s family would - ”

“ No, they wouldn’t,” interrupted Ralph, hastily. “ Don’t
think it. I am the family, ma’am, — at least, I believe I
am the only relation they have, and I think it right that
you should know I can’t support them in their extravagances.
How long have they taken these lodgings for ? ”

“Only from week to week. Mrs. Nickleby paid the first
week in advance.”

“Then you had better get them out at the end of it ; they
can’t do better than go back to the country, ma’am; they are
in everybody’s way here.”

“Yet I have nothing whatever to say against the lady,”
said Miss La Creevy. “ She seems extremely pleasant,
though, poor thing, terribly low in her spirits; nor against
the young people either, for nicer or better behaved young
people cannot be.”

“ Very well, ma’am,” said Ralph, turning to the door, “ I
have done my duty, and perhaps more than I ought. Good
morning.”

He began to climb another flight of stairs, saying to him¬
self, “ Now for my sister-in-law. Bah.” He stopped on a
landing to take breath when he was overtaken by Miss La

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 5

Creevy’s servant girl, who came up to announce him to his
relatives.

“ What name?” said the girl.

“Nickleby.”

“Oh! Mrs. Nickleby,” said the girl, throwing open the
door, “ here’s Mr. Nickleby.”

A lady in deep mourning rose as Mr. Ralph Nickleby
entered, but appeared incapable of advancing to meet him,
and leaned upon the arm of a slight but very beautiful girl
of about seventeen, who had been sitting by her. A youth,
who appeared a year or two older, stepped forward and
saluted Ralph as his uncle.

“ Oh,” growled Ralph, “ you are Nicholas, I suppose.”

“ That is my name, sir.”

“ Put my hat down,” said Ralph imperiously. “Well,
ma’am, how do you do? You must bear up against sorrow.
I always do.”

“ Mine was no common loss!” said Mrs. Nickleby, apply¬
ing her handkerchief to her eyes.

“ It was no uncommon loss,” returned Ralph, as he coolly
unbuttoned his overcoat. “ Husbands die every day, ma’am,
and wives too.”

“ And brothers, also, sir,” said Nicholas, with a glance of
indignation.

“ Yes, sir, and puppies, and pupdogs likewise,” replied his
uncle, taking a chair. “ You didn’t mention in your letter
what my brother’s complaint was, ma’am.”

“ The doctors could attribute it to no particular disease,”
said Mrs. Nickleby, shedding tears. “But on account of
losing our home and all our fortune, we have too much reason
to fear that he died of a broken heart.”

“ Pooh ! ” said Ralph, “ there’s no such thing. I can under¬
stand a man’s dying of a broken neck, or suffering from a
broken arm, or a broken head, or a broken leg, or a broken

6

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

nose; but a broken heart! nonsense, it’s the cant of the
day. If a man can’t pay his debts, he dies of a broken heart,
and his widow’s a martyr.”

“ Some people, I believe, have no hearts to break,” observed
Nicholas.

“ How old is this boy, for God’s sake? ” inquired Ralph,
wheeling back his chair, and surveying his nephew from head
to foot with intense scorn.

“ Nicholas is nearly nineteen,” replied his mother.

“ Nineteen, eh! And what do you mean to do for your
bread, sir ? ”

“ Not to live upon my mother,” replied Nicholas, his heart
swelling as he spoke.

“ You’d have little enough to live upon, if you did,” re¬
torted his uncle, eyeing him contemptuously.

“ Whatever it be, I shall not look to you to make it more,”
said Nicholas, flushed with anger.

“ Nicholas, my dear, recollect yourself,” remonstrated Mrs.
Nickleby.

“ Dear Nicholas, please,” urged the young lady.

“Keep still, sir,” said Ralph. “Upon my word! Fine
beginnings, Mrs. Nickleby — fine beginnings! ”

Mrs. Nickleby made no other reply than entreating Nicho¬
las, by a gesture, to keep silent; and the uncle and nephew
looked at each other for some seconds without speaking.

“ Well, ma’am,” said Ralph, impatiently, “ the creditors
have administered, you tell me, and there’s nothing left for
you? ”

“ Nothing,” replied Mrs. Nickleby.

“And you spent what little money you had in coming
all the way to London, to see what I could do for you ? ”
pursued Ralph.

“ I hoped,” faltered Mrs. Nickleby, “ that you might have
an opportunity of doing something for your brother’s chil-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 7

dren. It was his dying wish that I should appeal to you in
their behalf.”

“ I don’t know how it is,” muttered Ralph, walking up and
down the room ; “ but whenever a man dies without any
property of his own, he always seems to think he has a right
to dispose of other people’s. What is your daughter fit for,
ma’am ? ”

“Kate has been well educated,” sobbed Mrs. Nickleby.
“ Tell your uncle, my dear, how far you went in F rench and
extras.”

The poor girl was about to murmur something, when her
uncle stopped her.

“ We must try to get you apprenticed at some boarding
school. You have not been brought up too delicately for
that, I hope? ”

“ No, indeed, uncle,” replied the weeping girl. “ I will try
to do anything that will gain me a home and bread.”

“ Well, well,” said Ralph, a little softened, either by his
niece’s beauty or her distress. “ You must try it, and if
the life is too hard, perhaps dressmaking or tambour work will
come lighter. Have you ever done anything, sir ? ” (turning
to his nephew) .

“ No,” replied Nicholas, bluntly.

“No, I thought not! ” said Ralph. “This is the way
my brother brought up his children, ma’am.”

“ Nicholas has not long completed such education as his
poor father could give him,” rejoined Mrs. Nickleby, “ and
he was thinking of - ”

“ Of making something of him some day,” said Ralph.
“The old story; always thinking, and never doing. If my
brother had been a man of activity and prudence, he might
have left *y°u a rich woman, ma’am : and if he had turned
his son into the world, as my father turned me, when I wasn’t
as old as that boy by a year and a half, he would have been

8

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

in a situation to help you. My brother was a thoughtless,
inconsiderate man, Mrs. Nickleby, and nobody, I am sure,
can have better reason to feel that than you.”

Mrs. Nickleby was not able to answer, so Ralph went on.
“ Are you willing to work, sir? ” he inquired, frowning on
his nephew.

“ Of course I am,” replied Nicholas haughtily.

“ Then see here,” said his uncle. “ This caught my eye
this morning, and you may thank your stars for it.”

Mr. Ralph Nickleby took a newspaper from his pocket,
and looking for a short time among the advertisements, read
as follows:

“ ‘ Education. — At Mr. Wackford Squeers’s Academy,
Dotheboys Hall, at the delightful village of Dotheboys,
near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, Youth are boarded, clothed,
booked, furnished with pocket money, provided with all
necessaries, instructed in all languages, living and dead,
mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigo¬
nometry, the use of the globes, algebra, writing, arithmetic,
and every other branch of classical literature. Terms,
twenty guineas per annum. No extras, no vacations, and
diet unparalleled. Mr. Squeers is in town, and attends daily,
from one till four, at the Saracen’s Head Hotel, Snow Hill.
N. B. An able assistant wanted. Annual salary £5. A
master of arts would be preferred.’

“ There! ” said Ralph, folding the paper again. “ Let him
get that situation, and his fortune is made.”

“ But he is not a master of arts,” said Mrs. Nickleby.

“ That,” replied Ralph, “that, I think, can be got over.”
“ But the salary is so small, and it is such a long way off,
uncle! ” faltered Kate.

“ Hush, Kate, my dear,” interposed Mrs. Nickleby; “ your
uncle must know best.”

“ I say,” repeated Ralph, tartly, “ let him get that situa-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

9

tion, and his fortune is made. If he don’t like that, let him
get one for himself. Without friends, money, recommenda¬
tion, or knowledge of business of any kind, let him find
honest employment in London wThich will keep him in shoe
leather, and I’ll give him a thousand pounds. At least,”
said Mr. Ralph Nickleby, checking himself, “ I would if I
had it.”

“ Poor fellow! ” said the young lady. “ Oh! uncle, must
wre be separated so soon! ”

“ Don’t tease your uncle with questions when he is think¬
ing only for our good, my love,” said Mrs. Nickleby.
“ Nicholas, my dear, I wish you wrould say something.”

“ Yes, mother, yes,” said Nicholas, who had remained
silent. “ If I am fortunate enough to be appointed to this
post, sir, what will become of those I leave behind ? ”

“ Your mother and sister will be provided for, in that case
(not otherwise), by me, and placed in some sphere of life
in which they will be able to be independent. That will be
my immediate care; they will not remain as they are, one
week after your departure, I will undertake.”

“ Then,” said Nicholas, starting gaily up, and wringing his
uncle’s hand, “ I am ready to do anything you wish. Let us
try our fortune with Mr. Squeers at once; he can but refuse.”

“ He won’t do that. He will be glad to have you on my
recommendation. Make yourself of use to him, and you’ll
rise to be a partner in the establishment in no time. Bless
me, only think! if he were to die, why, your fortune’s made
at once.”

“To be sure, I see it all,” said poor Nicholas, delighted
with a thousand visionary ideas that his good spirits and his
inexperience were conjuring up before him. “ Or suppose
some young nobleman who is being educated at the Hall
were to take a fancy to me, and get his father to appoint me
his travelling tutor when he left, and when canae back

10 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

from the continent, procured me some fine position. Eh!
uncle? ”

“Ah, to be sure! ” sneered Ralph.

“ And who knows, but when he came to see me when I
was settled (as he would of course), he might fall in love with
Kate, who would be keeping my house, and — and — marry
her, eh ! uncle ? Who knows ? ”

“Who, indeed! ” snarled Ralph.

“ How happy we should be ! ” cried Nicholas with en¬
thusiasm. “ The pain of parting is nothing to the joy of
meeting again. Kate will be a beautiful woman, and I so
proud to hear them say so, and mother so happy to be with

us once again, and all these sad times forgotten, and - ”

The picture was too bright a one to bear; and Nicholas,
fairly overpowered by it, smiled faintly, with his eyes full
of tears and his lips trembling so that he could not speak.

This simple family, born and bred in retirement and wholly
unacquainted with what is called “ the world ” (a conven¬
tional phrase which often means all the rascals in it) mingled
their tears together at the thought of their first separation.

CHAPTER II

AT the very core of London, in the heart of its business
and animation, in the midst of a whirl of noise and
motion, is the coachyard of the Saracen’s Head Inn, its portal
guarded by two Saracen’s heads and shoulders. When you
walk up the yard you will observe a long window with the
words “Coffee Room” legibly painted above it. Looking out
of that window, you would have seen, if you had gone at the
right time, Mr. Wackford Squeers, with his hands in his
pockets.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

11

Mr. Squeers’s appearance was not prepossessing. He had
but one eye, which was useful but decidedly not ornamental,
being of a greenish grey, and in shape resembling the fanlight
of a street door. The blank side of his face was much
wrinkled and puckered up, which gave him a very sinister
appearance, especially when he smiled, at which times his
expression bordered closely on the villainous. His hair was
very flat and shiny, save at the ends, where it was brushed
stiffly up from a low protruding forehead, which assorted
well with his harsh voice and coarse manner. He was about
two or three and fifty, and a trifle below the average size.
He wore a white neckerchief with long ends and a suit of
scholastic black; but his coat sleeves being a great deal too
long, and his trousers a great deal too short, he appeared ill
at ease in his clothes, as if he were in a perpetual state of
astonishment at finding himself so respectable.

Mr. Squeers was standing in a small compartment called
a “ box,” by one of the coffee-room, fireplaces. In a corner
wras a very small deal trunk, tied round with a scanty piece
of cord; and on the trunk was perched a diminutive boy,
with his shoulders drawn up to his ears, and his hands planted
on his knees, who glanced timidly at the schoolmaster from
time to time, with evident dread and apprehension.

“ Half-past three,” muttered Mr. Squeers, turning from
the window, and looking sulkily at the coffee-room clock.
“ There will be nobody here today.”

Much vexed by this reflection, Mr. Squeers looked at the
little boy to see whether he was doing anything he could
beat him for. As he happened not to be doing anything
at all, he merely boxed his ears, and told him not to do it
again.

“ At midsummer,” muttered Mr. Squeers, “ I took down
ten boys; ten twenties is two hundred pound. I go back
at eight o'clock tomorrow morning, and have got only three

12

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

— three oughts is ought — three twos is six — Sixty pound.
What’s come of all the boys? What’s parents got in their
heads? What does it all mean?”

Here the little boy on the top of the trunk gave a violent
sneeze.

“ Halloa, sir! ” growled the schoolmaster, turning round.
“What’s that, sir? ”

“ Nothing, please sir,” said the little boy.

“ Nothing, sir! ” exclaimed Mr. Squeers.

“ Please, sir, I sneezed,” rejoined the boy, trembling till
the trunk shook under him.

“ Oh! sneezed, did you? ” retorted Mr. Squeers. “ Then
what did you say ‘ nothing ’ for, sir? ”

In default of a better answer to this question, the little
boy screwed a couple of knuckles into each of his eyes and
began to cry, wherefore Mr. Squeers knocked him off the
trunk with a blow on one side of his face, and knocked him on
again with a blow on the other.

“ Wait till I get you down into Yorkshire, my young gentle¬
man,” said Mr. Squeers, “ and then I’ll give you the rest.

— Will you hold that noise, sir? ”

“ Ye-ye-yes,” sobbed the little boy, rubbing his face.

“ Then do so at once, sir, do you hear? ”

As this admonition was accompanied with a threatening
gesture and uttered with a savage aspect, the little boy rubbed
his face harder, as if to keep the tears back; and, beyond al¬
ternately sniffing and choking, gave no further vent to his
emotions.

“ Mr. Squeers,” said the waiter, looking in at this juncture ;
“ here’s a gentleman asking for you at the bar.”

“ Show the gentleman in, Richard,” replied Mr. Squeers,
in a soft voice. “ Put your handkerchief in your pocket, you
little scoundrel, or I’ll murder you when the gentleman
goes.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

13

The schoolmaster had scarcely uttered these words in a
fierce whisper, when the stranger entered. Affecting not
to see him, Mr. Squeers feigned to be intent upon mend¬
ing a pen and offering benevolent advice to his youthful
pupil.

“ My dear child,” said Mr. Squeers, “ all people have their
trials. This early trial of yours that is fit to make your
little heart burst, and your very eyes come out of your head
with crying, what is it? Nothing; less than nothing. You
are leaving your friends, but you will have a father in me,
my dear, and a mother in Mrs. Squeers. At the delightful
village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where
youth are boarded, clothed, booked, washed, furnished with
pocket money, provided with all necessaries - ”

“ It is the gentleman,” observed the stranger, stopping the
schoolmaster in the rehearsal of his advertisement. “ Mr.
Squeers, I believe, sir ? ”

“ The same, sir,” said Mr. Squeers, with an assumption
of surprise.

“ The gentleman,” said the stranger, “ that advertised in
the Times f ”

“ — Morning Post , Chronicle, Herald, and Advertiser, re¬
garding the academy called Dotheboys Hall at the delightful
village of Dotheboys, near Greta Bridge in Yorkshire,” added
Mr. Squeers. “ You come on business, sir, I see by my
young friends. How do you do, my little gentlemen? And
how do you do, sir ? ” With this salutation Mr. Squeers
patted the heads of two hollow-eyed, small-boned little boys,
whom the applicant had brought with him, and waited for
further communications.

“ I am in the oil and color way. My name is Snawley,
sir.”

Squeers inclined his head as much as to say, “And a re¬
markably pretty name, too.”

14

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The stranger continued. “ I have been thinking, Mr.
Squeers, of placing my two boys at your school.”

“ It is not for me to say so, sir, but I don’t think you
could possibly do a better thing.”

“ Hem ! ” said the other. “ Twenty pounds per annum,
I believe, Mr. Squeers?”

“ Guineas,” 1 rejoined the schoolmaster, with a persuasive
smile.

“ Pounds for two, I think, Mr. Squeers,” said Mr. Snawley,
solemnly.

“ I don’t think it could be done, sir,” replied Squeers, as if
he had never considered the proposition before. “ Let me
see ; four fives is twenty, double that, and deduct the — well,
a pound either way shall not stand betwixt us. You must
recommend me, and make it up that way.”

“ They are not great eaters,” said Mr. Snawley.

“ Oh! that doesn’t matter at all. We don’t consider the
boys’ appetites at our establishment.” This was strictly
true; they did not.

“ Every wholesome luxury that Yorkshire can afford,”
continued Squeers; “every — in short, every comfort of a
home that a boy could wish for will be theirs, Mr. Snawley.”

“ I should wish their morals to be particularly attended
to,” said Mr. Snawley.

“ I am glad of that, sir,” replied the schoolmaster, drawing
himself up. “ They have come to the right shop for morals,
sir.”

“ You are a moral man yourself,” said Mr. Snawley.

“ I rather believe I am, sir,” replied Squeers.

“ I have the satisfaction to know you are, sir,” said Mr.
Snawley. “ I asked one of your references, and he said
you were religious.”

“ Well, sir, I hope I am a little in that line,” replied Squeers.

1 A guinea is $5.11.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 15

“I hope I am also,” rejoined the other. “Could I say a
few words with you in the next box? ”

“ By all means,” rejoined Squeers with a grin. “ My
dears, will you speak to your new playfellow a minute or
two ? That is one of my boys, sir. Belling his name is - ”

“ Oh, indeed? ” rejoined Mr. Snawley, looking at the poor
little urchin as if he were some extraordinary natural curi¬
osity.

“ He goes down with me tomorrow, sir,” said Squeers.
“ That’s his luggage that he is sitting upon now. Each boy
is required to bring two suits of clothes, six shirts, six pairs
of stockings, two nightcaps, two pocket handkerchiefs, two
pairs of shoes, two hats, and a razor.”

“A razor! ” exclaimed Mr. Snawley, as they walked into
the next box. “ What for? ”

“ To shave with,” replied Squeers, in a slow and measured
tone.

There was not much in these three words, but there must
have been something in the manner in which they were said
to attract attention; for the schoolmaster and his companion
looked steadily at each other for a few seconds, and then
exchanged a very meaning smile. Snawley was a sleek,
flat-nosed man, clad in sombre garments, and long black
gaiters.

“ Up to what age do you keep boys at your school then? ”
he asked at length.

“ Just as long as their friends make the quarterly pay¬
ments to my agent in town, or until such time as they run
away,” replied Squeers. “Let us understand each other;
I see we may safely do so.”

“Yes,” replied Snawley. “The fact is, I am not their
father, Mr. Squeers. I’m only their stepfather. You see
I have married the mother. It’s expensive keeping boys at
home, and as she has a little money in her own right, I am

16

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

afraid (women are so very foolish, Mr. Squeers) that she
might be led to squander it on them, which would be their
ruin, you know.”

“ I see,” returned Squeers, throwing himself back in his
chair, and waving his hand.

“ And this,” resumed Snawley, “ has made me anxious to
put them to some school a good distance off, where there are
no holidays — none of those ill-judged comings home twice
a year that unsettle children’s minds so — and where they
may rough it a little — you comprehend ? ”

“ The payments regular, and no questions asked,” . said
Squeers, nodding his head.

“ That’s it, exactly,” rejoined the other. “ Morals strictly
attended to, though.”

“ Strictly,” said Squeers.

“ Not too much writing home allowed, I suppose?” said
the stepfather, hesitating.

“ None, except a circular at Christmas, to say they never
were so happy, and hope they may never be sent for,” re¬
joined Squeers.

“ Nothing could be better,” said the stepfather, rubbing
his hands.

“ Then as we understand each other,” said Squeers, “ will
you allow me to ask you whether you consider me a highly
virtuous, exemplary, and well-conducted man in private life;
and whether you place the strongest confidence in my in¬
tegrity, liberality, religious principles, and ability ? ”

“ Certainly I do,” replied the stepfather, reciprocating the
schoolmaster’s grin.

“ Perhaps you won’t object to say that, if I make you a
reference ? ”

“ Not the least in the world.”

“ That’s your sort! ” said Squeers, taking up a pen; “ this
is doing business, and that’s what I like.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

17

Having entered Mr. Snawley’s address, the schoolmaster
had next to perform the still more agreeable office of entering
the receipt of the first quarter’s payment in advance, which he
had scarcely completed when another voice was heard in¬
quiring for Mr. Squeers.

“ Here he is,” replied the schoolmaster; “ what is it? ”

“ Only a matter of business, sir,” said Ralph Nickleby,
presenting himself, closely followed by Nicholas. “ There
was an advertisement of yours in the papers this morning ? ”

“ There was, sir. This way, if you please,” said Squeers,
who had by this time got back to the box by the fireplace.
“ Won’t you be seated? ”

“ Why, I think I will,” replied Ralph, suiting the action
to the word, and placing his hat on the table before him.
“ This is my nephew, sir, Mr. Nicholas Nickleby.”

“ How do you do, sir? ” said Squeers.

Nicholas bowed, said he was very well, and seemed very
much astonished at the outward appearance of the proprietor
of Dotheboys Hall.

“ Perhaps you recollect me? ” said Ralph, looking narrowly
at Squeers.

“ You paid me a small account at each of my half-yearly
visits to town for some years, I think, sir,” said Squeers.

“ I did.”

“ For the parents of a boy named Dorker, who unfor¬
tunately - ”

“ - unfortunately died at Dotheboys Hall,” said Ralph,

finishing the sentence.

“I remember very well, sir,” rejoined Squeers. “Ah!
Mrs. Squeers, sir, was as partial to that lad as if he had been
her own; the attention, sir, that was bestowed upon that boy
in his illness! Dry toast and warm tea offered him every
night and morning when he couldn’t swallow anything — a
candle in his bedroom on the very night he died — the best

18

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

dictionary sent up for him to lay his head upon — I don’t
regret it though. It is a pleasant thing to reflect that one did
one’s duty by him.”

Ralph smiled, as if he meant anything but smiling, and
looked round at the strangers present.

“ These are only some pupils of mine,” said Wackford
Squeers, pointing to the little boy on the trunk and the two
little boys on the floor, who had been staring at each other
without uttering a word and writhing their bodies into most
remarkable contortions, according to the custom of little
boys when they first become acquainted. “ This gentleman,
sir, is a parent who is kind enough to compliment me upon
the course of education adopted at Dotheboys Hall, which
is situated, sir, at the delightful village of Dotheboys, near
Greta Bridge in Yorkshire, where youth are boarded, clothed,
booked, washed, furnished with pocket money - ”

“ Yes, we know all about that, sir,” interrupted Ralph ;

“ it’s in the advertisement.”

“ You are very right, sir; it is in the advertisement,” re¬
plied Squeers.

“ And in the matter of fact beside,” interrupted Mr. Snaw-
ley, “ I feel bound to assure you, sir, and I am proud to have
this opportunity of assuring you, that I. consider Mr. Squeers
a gentleman highly virtuous, exemplary, well conducted,
and - ”

“ I make no doubt of it, sir,” interrupted Ralph, checking
the torrent of recommendation; “ no doubt of it at all.
Suppose we come to business ? ”

“ With all my heart, sir,” rejoined Squeers. “ ‘ Never post¬
pone business,’ is the very first lesson we instill into our com¬
mercial pupils. Master Belling, my dear, always remember
that; do you hear? ”

“ Yes, sir,” repeated Master Belling.

“ He recollects what it is, does he ? ” said Ralph.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

19

“ Tell the gentleman,” said Squeers.

“ Never,” repeated Master Belling.

“Very good,” said Squeers; “go on.”

“ Never,” repeated Master Belling again.

“ Very good indeed,” said Squeers. “ Yes.”

“ P,” suggested Nicholas, good-naturedly, giving the first
letter of the word.

“Perform — business! ” said Master Belling. “Never —
perform — business! ”

“ Very well, sir,” said Squeers, darting a withering look at
the culprit. “You and I will perform a little business on
our private account by and by.”

“ And just now,” said Ralph, “ we had better transact our
own, perhaps.”

“ If you please,” said Squeers.

“ Well,” resumed Ralph, “ it’s brief enough; soon broached;
and I hope easily concluded. You have advertised for an
able assistant, sir ? ”

“ Precisely so,” said Squeers.

“ And you really want one ? ”

“ Certainly,” answered Squeers.

“Here he is! My nephew Nicholas, hot from school,
with everything he learnt there fermenting in his head, and
nothing fermenting in his pocket, is just the man you want.”

“ I am afraid,” said Squeers, perplexed with such an appli¬
cation from a youth of Nicholas’s figure, “ I am afraid the
young man won’t suit me.”

“Yes, he will,” said Ralph; “I know better. Don’t be
cast down, sir ; you will be teaching all the young noblemen in
Dotheboys Hall in less than a week’s time, unless this gentle¬
man is more obstinate than I take him to be.”

“ I fear, sir, that you object to my youth, and to my not
being a master of arts?” said Nicholas, addressing Mr.
Squeers.

20

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ The absence of a college degree is an objection,” said
Squeers.

“ Look here,” said Ralph; “I’ll put this matter in its
true light in two seconds.”

“ If you’ll have the goodness,” rejoined Squeers.

“ This is a boy, or a youth, or a lad, or a young man, or
a hobbledehoy, or whatever you like to call him, of eighteen
or nineteen,” said Ralph.

“ That I see,” observed the schoolmaster.

“ So do I,” said Mr. Snawley, thinking it well to back his
new friend.

“ His father is dead, he is wholly ignorant of the world,
has no resources whatever, and wants something to do. I
recommend him to this splendid establishment of yours as
an opening which will lead him to fortune if he turns it to
proper account. Do you see that? ”

“ Everybody must see that,” replied Squeers.

“ I do, of course,” said Nicholas, eagerly.

“ He does, of course, you observe. If any caprice of
temper should induce him to cast aside this golden oppor¬
tunity at any time, I shall not give any help to his mother
or sister. Look at him, and think of the use he may be to
you in half a dozen ways. Now the question is whether, for
some time to come at all events, he won’t serve your purpose
better than twenty of the kind of people you would get under
ordinary circumstances. Isn’t that a question for considera¬
tion? ”

“ Yes, it is,” said Squeers, answering a nod of Ralph’s
head with a nod of his own.

“ Good,” rejoined Ralph. “ Let me have two words with
you.”

The two words were had apart. In a couple of minutes
Mr. Wackford Squeers announced that Mr. Nicholas Nickleby
was, from that moment, thoroughly nominated to, and in-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 21

stalled in, the office of first assistant master at Dotheboys
Hall.

“ Your uncle’s recommendation has done it, Mr. Nickleby,”
said Wackford Squeers.

Nicholas, overjoyed at his success, shook his uncle’s hand
warmly and could almost have worshipped Squeers upon the
spot.

“ He is an odd-looking man,” thought Nicholas. “ What
of that ? Porson was an odd-looking man, and so was Doctor
Johnson; all these bookworms are.”

“ At eight o’clock tomorrow morning, Mr. Nickleby,” said
Squeers, “ the coach starts. You must be here at a quarter
before, as we take these boys with us.”

“ Certainly, sir,” said Nicholas.

“ And your fare down, I have paid,” growled Ralph. “ So
you’ll have nothing to do but keep yourself warm.”

Here was another instance of his uncle’s generosity!
Nicholas felt his unexpected kindness so much that he could
scarcely find words to thank him; indeed, he had not found
half enough when they took leave of the schoolmaster and
emerged from the Saracen’s Head gateway.

“ I shall be here in the morning to see you fairly off,” said
Ralph. “ No skulking! ”

“ Thank you, sir, I never shall forget this kindness.”

“ Take care you don’t. You had better go home now and
pack up what you have got to pack. Do you think you
could find your way to Golden Square first ? ”

“ Certainly, I can easily inquire.”

“ Leave these papers with my clerk, then,” said Ralph, pro¬
ducing a small parcel, “ and tell him to wait till I come home.”

Nicholas cheerfully undertook the errand, and bidding his
worthy uncle an affectionate farewell, which that warm¬
hearted old gentleman acknowledged by a growl, hastened
away to execute his commission.

22

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

He found Golden Square in due course. Mr. Noggs, who
had stepped out for a minute or so to the public house, was
opening the door with a latch key as he reached the steps.

“ What’s that? ” inquired Noggs, pointing to the parcel.

“ Papers from my uncle, and you’re to have the goodness
to wait till he comes home, if you please.”

“ Uncle! ”

“ Mr. Nickleby,” said Nicholas in explanation.

“ Come in,” said Newman.

Without another word he led Nicholas into the passage
and thence into the official pantry at the end of it, where he
thrust him into a chair; and mounting upon his high stool,
he sat, with his arms hanging straight down by his sides,
gazing fixedly upon him, as from a tower of observation.

“ There is no answer,” said Nicholas, laying the parcel on
a table beside him.

Newman said nothing, but folding his arms and thrusting
his head forward so as to obtain a nearer view of Nicholas’s
face, scanned his features closely.

“ No answer,” said Nicholas, speaking very loud, under
the impression that Newman Noggs was deaf.

Newman placed his hands upon his knees, and without
uttering a syllable, continued the same close scrutiny of his
companion’s face.

This was such a very singular proceeding on the part of an
utter stranger, and his appearance was so extremely peculiar
that Nicholas, who had a keen sense of the ridiculous, could
not refrain from breaking into a smile as he inquired whether
Mr. Noggs had any commands for him.

Noggs shook his head and sighed, upon which Nicholas
rose and, remarking that he required no rest, bade him good
morning.

It was a great exertion for Newman Noggs, and nobody
knows to this day how he ever came to make it, the other

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

23

party being wholly unknown to him, but he drew a long
breath and actually said, out loud, without once stopping,
that if the young gentleman did not object to tell, he should
like to know what his uncle was going to do for him.

Nicholas had not the least objection in the world, but on
the contrary was rather pleased to have an opportunity of
talking on the subject which occupied his thoughts; so he
sat down again and entered into a fervent and glowing
description of all the honours and advantages to be derived
from his appointment at the seat of learning, Dotheboys Hall.

“ But, what’s the matter — are you ill?” said Nicholas,
Suddenly breaking off, as his companion, after throwing
himself into a variety of uncouth attitudes, thrust his hands
under the stool and cracked his finger joints as if he were
snapping all the bones in his hands.

Newman Noggs made no reply, but went on shrugging his
shoulders and cracking his finger joints; smiling horribly
all the time and looking steadfastly at nothing out of the tops
of his eyes, in a most ghastly manner.

At first, Nicholas thought the mysterious man was in a
fit, but on further consideration, decided that he was in
liquor, under which circumstances he deemed it prudent to
make off at once. He looked back when he had got the
street door open. Newman Noggs was still indulging in the
same extraordinary gestures, and the cracking of his fingers
sounded louder than ever.

CHAPTER III

NICHOLAS slept till six next morning; dreamed of
home, or of what was home once — no matter which,
for things that are changed or gone will come back as they
used to be, thank God ! in sleep — and rose quite brisk and
gay. He wrote a few lines to say the good bye which he

24

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

was afraid to pronounce himself, and laying them, with half
his scanty stock of money, at his sister’s door, shouldered
his box and crept softly downstairs.

“ Is that you, Hannah? ” cried a voice from Miss La
Creevy’s sitting room, whence shone the light of a feeble
candle.

“ It is I, Miss La Creevy,” said Nicholas, putting down the
box and looking in.

“ Bless us ! ” exclaimed Miss La Creevy, starting, and
putting her hand to her curl papers. “ You’re up very early,
Mr. Nickleby.”

“ So are you.”

“ It’s the fine arts that bring me out of bed, Mr. Nickleby.”

Miss La Creevy had got up early to put a fancy nose into
a picture of a little boy, destined for his grandmother in the
country, who was expected to bequeath him property if he
was like the family.

“ You don’t mean to say that you are really going all the
way down into Yorkshire this cold winter’s weather, Mr.
Nickleby? I heard something of it last night.”

“ I do, indeed. Necessity is my driver.”

“ Well, I am very sorry for it — that’s all I can say — as
much on your mother’s and sister’s account as on yours.
Your sister is a very pretty young lady, Mr. Nickleby, and
that is an additional reason why she should have somebody
to protect her. I persuaded her to give me a sitting or two
for the street-door case. Ah ! she’ll make a sweet miniature.”
As Miss La Creevy spoke, she held up an ivory countenance
interlaced with very perceptible sky-blue veins, and regarded
it with so much complacency that Nicholas quite envied
her.

“ If you ever have an opportunity of showing Kate some
little kindness,” said Nicholas, presenting his hand, “ I think
you will.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

25

“ Depend upon that/’ said the good-natured miniature
painter; “ and God bless you, Mr. Nickleby, and I wish you
well.”

By the time he had found a man to carry his box, it was
seven o’clock. He walked slowly on, a little in advance of the
porter, and very probably with not half so light a heart as
the man had, although he had no waistcoat to cover it with
and had evidently been spending the night in a stable, and
taking his breakfast at a pump.

Nicholas regarded with curiosity and interest all the busy
preparations for the coming day which every street and
almost every house displayed. Thinking now and then
that it seemed rather hard that so many people of all ranks
and stations could earn a living in London when he should
be compelled to journey so far away, he speedily arrived at
the Saracen’s Head Inn. Having dismissed his attendant
and seen his box safely deposited in the coach office, he looked
into the coffee room in search of Mr. Squeers.

That learned gentleman was found sitting at breakfast,
with the three little boys before noticed, and two others, who
had turned up by some lucky chance since the interview of
the previous day, ranged in a row on the opposite seat. Mr.
Squeers had before him a small measure of coffee, a plate
of hot toast, and a cold round of beef; but he was at that
moment intent on preparing breakfast for the five little
boys.

“ This is two penn’orth of milk, is it, waiter ? ” said Mr.
Squeers, looking down into a large blue mug and slanting
it gently, so as to get an accurate view of the quantity of liquid
contained in it.

“ That’s two penn’orth, sir,” replied the waiter.

“ What a rare article milk is, to be sure, in London ! ”
said Mr. Squeers, with a sigh. “ Just fill that mug up with
lukewarrrj water, William, will you ? ”

26

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ To the werry top, sir ? Why, the milk will be drownded.”

“Never you mind that; serve it right for being so dear.
You ordered that thick bread and butter for three, did you? ”

“ Coming directly, sir.”

“ You needn’t hurry yourself; there’s plenty of time.
Conquer your passions, boys, and don’t be eager after wittles.”
As he uttered this moral precept, Mr. Squeers took a large
bite out of the cold beef, and recognized Nicholas.

“Sit down, Mr. Nickleby; here we are, abreakfasting,
you see! ”

Nicholas did not see that anybody was breakfasting except
Mr. Squeers, but he bowed with all becoming reverence and
looked as cheerful as he could.

“Oh! that’s the milk and water, is it, William? Very
good ; don’t forget the bread and butter presently.”

At this fresh mention of the bread and butter the five
little boys looked very eager, and followed the waiter out
with their eyes; meanwhile Mr. Squeers tasted the milk
and water.

“ Ah ! ” said that gentleman, smacking his lips, “ here’s
richness! Think of the many beggars and orphans in the
streets that would be glad of this, little boys. A shocking
thing hunger is, isn’t it, Mr. Nickleby? ”

“ Very shocking, sir.”

“ When I say number one,” pursued Mr. Squeers, putting
the mug before the children, “ the boy on the left hand nearest
the window may take a drink; and when I say number two,
the boy next him will go in, and so till we come to number
five, which is the last boy. Are you ready ? ”

“ Yes, sir,” cried all the little boys with great eagerness.

“ That’s right,” said Squeers, calmly getting on with his
breakfast, “ Keep ready till I tell you to begin. Subdue your
appetites, my dears, and you’ve conquered human natur’.
This i§ the way we inculcate strength of mind, Mr. Nickleby,”

27

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

said the schoolmaster, turning to Nicholas, and speaking
with his mouth very full of beef and toast.

Nicholas murmured something — he knew not what — in
reply> &nd the little boys, dividing their gaze between the
mug, the bread and butter (which had by this time arrived),
and every morsel which Mr. Squeers took into his mouth,
remained with strained eyes in torments of expectation.

“ Thank God for a good breakfast,” said Squeers when
he had finished. “ Number one may take a drink.”

Number one seized the mug ravenously, and had just
drunk enough to make him wish for more when Mr. Squeers
gave the signal for number two, who gave up at the same
interesting moment to number three; and the process was
repeated until the milk and water terminated with number
five.

“ And now,” said the schoolmaster, dividing the bread
and butter for three into five portions, “ you had better look
sharp with your breakfast, for the horn will blow in a minute
or two, and then every boy leaves off.”

Permission being thus given to fall to, the boys began to
eat voraciously and in desperate haste, while the schoolmaster
picked his teeth with a fork and looked smilingly on. In a
very short time, the horn was heard.

“ I thought it wouldn’t be long,” said Squeers, jumping up
and producing a little basket from under the seat; “put
what you haven’t had time to eat in here, boys ! You’ll want
it on the road! ”

Nicholas was considerably startled by these very eco¬
nomical arrangements; but he had no time to reflect upon
them, for the little boys had to be got up to the top of the
coach, and their boxes had to be brought out and put in, and
Mr. Squeers’s luggage was to be seen carefully deposited
in the boot,1 and all these offices were in his department.

1 A box where baggage was carried.

28

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

He was in the full heat and bustle of concluding these opera¬
tions, when his uncle, Mr. Ralph Nickleby, accosted him.

“ Oh! here you are, sir! ” said Ralph. “ Here are your
mother and sister, sir.”

“ Where? ” cried Nicholas, looking hastily round.

“ Here ! ” replied his uncle. “ Having too much money and
nothing at all to do with it, they were paying a hackney coach
as I came up, sir.”

“ We were afraid of being too late to see him before he
went away from us,” said Mrs. Nickleby, embracing her son,
heedless of the unconcerned lookers-on in the coachyard.

“Very good, ma’am,” returned Ralph; “you’re the best
judge, of course. I merely said that you were paying a hack¬
ney coach. I never pay a hackney coach, ma am. I never
hire one. I haven’t been in a hackney coach of my own
hiring for thirty years, and I hope I shan’t be for thirty
more, if I live as long.”

“ I should never have forgiven myself if I had not seen
him,” said Mrs. Nickleby. “Poor dear boy — going away
without his breakfast, too, because he feared to distress us! ”

“ Mighty fine certainly,” said Ralph, with great testiness.
“ When I first went to business, ma’am, I took a penny loaf
and a ha’porth of milk for my breakfast as I walked to the
city every morning. What do you say to that, maam?
Breakfast! Bah! ”

“ Now, Nickleby,” said Squeers, coming up at the moment
buttoning his greatcoat; “ I think you’d better get up behind.
I’m afraid of one of them boys falling off, and then there’s
twenty pound a year gone.”

“ Dear Nicholas,” whispered Kate, touching her brother’s
arm, “ who is that vulgar man? ”

“ Eh ! ” growled Ralph, whose quick ears had caught the
inquiry. “ Do you wish to be introduced to Mr. Squeers,
my dear ? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y

29

“That the schoolmaster! No, uncle. Oh no! ” replied
Kate, shrinking back.

“ I’m sure I heard you say as much, my dear,” retorted
Ralph in his cold, sarcastic manner. “ Mr. Squeers, here’s
my niece, Nicholas’s sister! ”

“ Very glad to make your acquaintance, miss,” said Squeers,
raising his hat an inch or two. “ I wish Mrs. Squeers took
gals, and we had you for a teacher. I don’t know, though,
whether she mightn’t grow jealous if we had. Ha! ha! ha! ”

If the proprietor of Dotheboys Hall could have known what
was passing in his assistant’s breast at that moment, he would
have discovered, with some surprise, that he was as near being
soundly pummelled as he had ever been in his life. Kate
Nickleby, having a quicker perception of her brother’s
emotions, led him gently aside.

“ My dear Nicholas,” said the young lady, “ who is this
man? What kind of place can it be that you are going
to?”

“ I hardly know, Kate,” replied Nicholas, pressing his
sister’s hand. “ I suppose the Yorkshire folks are rather
rough and uncultivated, that’s all.”

“ But this person,” urged Kate.

“ Is my employer, or master, or whatever the proper name
may be,” replied Nicholas quickly, “ and I was an ass to take
his coarseness ill. They are looking this way, and it is time
I was in my place. Bless you, love, and good bye ! Mother,
look to our meeting again some day! Uncle, farewell!
Thank you heartily for all you have done and all you mean to
do. Quite ready, sir! ”

With these hasty adieux, Nicholas mounted nimbly to his
seat, and waved his hand as gallantly as if his heart went with
it.

At this moment, when the coachman and guard were com¬
paring notes for the last time before starting on the subject

30

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

of the waybill, when porters were screwing out the last
reluctant sixpences, itinerant newsmen making the last
offer of a morning paper, and the horses giving the last im¬
patient rattle to their harness, Nicholas felt somebody pulling
softly at his leg. He looked down, and there stood Newman
Noggs, who pushed up into his hand a dirty letter.

“ What’s this ? ” inquired Nicholas.

“ Hush! ” rejoined Noggs, pointing to Mr. Ralph Nickleby,
who was saying a few earnest words to Squeers, a short dis¬
tance off. “ Take it. Read it. Nobody knows. That’s
all.”

“Stop!” cried Nicholas.

“ No,” replied Noggs.

Nicholas cried “Stop,” again, but Newman Noggs was
gone.

A minute’s bustle, a banging of the coach doors, a swaying
of the vehicle to one side, as the heavy coachman, and still
heavier guard, climbed into their seats; a cry of all right, a
few notes from the horn, a hasty glance of two sorrowful
faces below, and the hard features of Mr. Ralph Nickleby —
and the coach was gone.

The little boys’ legs being too short to admit of their feet
resting upon anything as they sat and the little boys’ bodies
being consequently in imminent hazard of being jerked off
the coach, Nicholas had enough to do, over the stones, to
hold them on.

The weather was intensely and bitterly cold; a great deal
of snow fell from time to time; and the wind was intolerably
keen. Mr. Squeers got down at almost every stage (wherever
there was a bar) — to stretch his legs as he said. Since he
always came back from such excursions with a very red nose
and a hiccup, and composed himself to sleep directly, there
is reason to suppose that he derived great benefit from the
process. The little pupils having been stimulated with the

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

31

remains of their breakfast and further invigorated by sundry
small cups of a curious cordial carried by Mr. Squeers, which
tasted very like toast-and-water put into a brandy bottle
by mistake, went to sleep, woke, shivered, and cried as their
feelings prompted.

So the time went on for two days, until, about six o’clock
on the evening of the second day, they arrived at the little
settlement of Greta Bridge in Yorkshire.

CHAPTER IV

NICHOLAS and the boys were left standing with the
luggage in the road, to amuse themselves by looking at
the coach as it changed horses, while Squeers ran into the
tavern and went through the leg-stretching process at the
bar. After some minutes, he returned, with his legs thor¬
oughly stretched, if the hue of his nose and an unusually short
hiccup afforded any criterion. At the same time there came
out of the yard a pusty pony chaise, and a cart, driven by two
labouring men.

“ Put the boys and the boxes into the cart,” said Squeers,
rubbing his hands; “ and this young man and me will go on
in the chaise. Get in, Nickleby.”

Nicholas obeyed. Mr. Squeers with some difficulty in¬
ducing the pony to obey also, they started off, leaving the
cart-load of infant misery to follow at leisure.

“Are you cold, Nickleby?” inquired Squeers, after they
had travelled some distance in silence.

“ Rather, sir, I must say.”

“ Well, I don’t find fault with that; it’s a long journey this
weather.”

“ Is it much farther to Dotheboys Hall, sir ? ”

32 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ About three miles from here,” replied Squeers. “ But you
needn’t call it a hall down here.”

Nicholas coughed, as if he would like to know why.

“ The fact is, it ain’t a hall,” observed Squeers drily.

« Oh, indeed! ” said Nicholas, whom this piece of intelli¬
gence much astonished.

“ No,” replied Squeers. “ We call it a hall up in London,
because it sounds better, but they don’t know it by that
name in these parts. A man may call his house an island if
he likes ; there’s no act of Parliament against that, I believe ?

“ I believe not, sir,” rejoined Nicholas.

Squeers eyed his companion slily at the conclusion of this
little dialogue, and finding that he had grown thoughtful and
appeared in nowise disposed to volunteer any observations,
contented himself with lashing the pony until they reached
their journey’s end.

“Jump out,” said Squeers. “Hallo there! Come and
put this horse up. Be quick, will you! ”

While the schoolmaster was uttering these and other im¬
patient cries, Nicholas had time to observe that the school
was a long, cold-looking house, one story* high, with a few
straggling outbuildings behind and a barn and stable ad¬
joining. After the lapse of a minute or two, the noise of
somebody unlocking the yard gate was heard, and presently
a tall lean boy with a lantern in his hand issued forth.

“ Is that you, Smike? ” cried Squeers.

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Then why the devil didn’t you come before? ”

“ Please, sir, I fell asleep over the fire.”

“ Fire ! what fire ? Where’s there a fire ? ”

“Only in the kitchen, sir. Missus said, as I was sitting
up, I might go in there for a warm.”

“Your Missus is a fool. You’d have been a deuced deal
more wakeful in the cold, I’ll engage.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

33

By this time Mr. Squeers had dismounted ; and after order¬
ing the boy to see to the pony and to take care that he hadn’t
any more corn that night, he told Nicholas to wait at the
front door a minute, while he went round and let him in.

A host of unpleasant misgivings which had been crowding
upon Nicholas during the whole journey thronged into his
mind with redoubled force when he was left alone. His great
distance from home and the impossibility of reaching it,
except on foot, should he feel ever so anxious to return, pre¬
sented itself to him in most alarming colours; and as he
looked up at the dreary house and dark windows, and upon
the wild country round, covered with snow, he felt a de¬
pression of heart and spirit which he had never experienced
before.

“ Now then! ” cried Squeers, poking his head out at the
front door. “ Where are you, Nickleby? ”

“ Here, sir.”

“ Come in. The wind blows in at this door fit to knock
a man off his legs.”

Nicholas sighed, and hurried in. Mr. Squeers, having
bolted the door to keep it shut, ushered him into a small
parlour scantily furnished with a few chairs, a yellow map
hung up against the wall, and a couple of tables, one of which
bore some preparations for supper.

They had not been in this apartment a couple of minutes
when a female bounced into the room and, seizing Mr. Squeers
by the throat, gave him two loud kisses; one close after the
other, like a postman’s knock. The lady, who was of a large
raw-boned figure, was about half a head taller than Mr.
Squeers and was dressed in a dimity night jacket, with her
hair in papers; she had also a dirty nightcap on, relieved by
a yellow cotton handkerchief which tied it under the chin.

“ How is my Squeery? ” said the lady in a playful manner,
and a very hoarse voice.

34

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Quite well, my love, how’s the cows? ”

“ All right, every one of ’em.”

“ And the pigs ? ”

“ As well as they were when you went away.”

“ Come; that’s a blessing,” said Squeers, pulling off his
greatcoat. “ The boys are all as they were, I suppose? ”

“ Oh, yes, they’re well enough,” replied Mrs. Squeers,
snappishly. “ That young Pitcher’s had a fever.

“ No ! Darn that boy, he’s always at something of that
sort.”

“ Never was such a boy, I do believe. Whatever he has
is always catching too. I say it’s obstinacy, and nothing
shall ever convince me that it isn’t. I’d beat it out of him,
and I told you that, six months ago.”

11 So you did, my love. We’ll try what can be done.

Pending these little endearments, Nicholas had stood,
awkwardly enough, in the middle of the room, not very well
knowing whether he was expected to retire into the passage
or to remain where he was. He was now relieved from his
perplexity by Mr. Squeers.

“ This is the new young man, my dear,” said that gentle¬
man.

“ Oh,” replied Mrs. Squeers, nodding her head at Nicholas
and eyeing him coldly from top to toe.

** He’ll take a meal with us tonight,” said Squeers, “ and
go among the boys tomorrow morning. You can give him
a shakedown here tonight, can’t you? ”

“ We must manage it somehow; you don’t much mind how
you sleep, I suppose, sir? ”

“ No, indeed, I am not particular.”

“ That’s lucky,” said Mrs. Squeers. And as the lady’s
humour was considered to lie chiefly in retort, Mr. Squeers
laughed heartily, and seemed to expect that Nicholas should
do the same.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

35

After some further conversation between the master and
mistress relative to the success of Mr. Squeers’s trip, and the
people who had paid, and the people who had made default
in payment, a young servant girl brought in a Yorkshire pie
and some cold beef, which being set upon the table, the boy
Smike appeared with a jug of ale.

Mr. Squeers was emptying his greatcoat pockets of letters
to different boys and other small documents which he had
brought down in them. The boy glanced, with an anxious
and timid expression, at the papers, as if with a sickly hope
that one among them might relate to him. The look was a
very painful one and went to Nicholas’s heart at once, for it
told a long and very sad history.

It induced him to consider the boy more attentively, and
he was surprised to observe the extraordinary mixture of
garments which formed his dress. Although he could not
have been less than eighteen or nineteen years old and was
tall for that age, he wore a suit such as is usually put upon
very little boys and which, though most absurdly short in
the arms and legs, was quite wide enough for his very thin
body. He had on a very large pair of boots, which might
have been once worn by some stout farmer, but were now
too patched and tattered for a beggar. Heaven knows how
long he had been there, but he still wore the same linen which
he had first taken down; for round his neck was a tattered
child’s frill, only half concealed by a coarse, man’s neckerchief.
He was lame; and as he feigned to be busy in arranging the
table, glanced at the letters with a look so keen, and yet so
dispirited and hopeless, that Nicholas could hardly bear to
watch him.

“ What are you bothering about there, Smike ? ” cried
Mrs. Squeers; “ let the things alone, can’t you? ”

“ Eh! ” said Squeers, looking up. “ Oh! it’s you, is it? ”

“ Yes, sir,” replied the youth, pressing his hands together,

36 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

as though to control, by force, the nervous wandering of his
fingers; “ is there - ”

“ Well! ” said Squeers.

“ Have you — did anybody — has nothing been heard
about me ? ”

“ Devil a bit,” replied Squeers testily.

The lad withdrew his eyes and, putting his hand to his face,
moved towards the door.

“ Not a word,” resumed Squeers, “and never will be.
Now this is a pretty sort of thing, isn’t it, that you should
have been left here, all these years, and no money paid after
the first six — nor no notice taken, nor no clue to be got who
you belong to ? It’s a pretty sort of thing that I should have
to feed a great fellow like you and never hope to get one
penny for it, isn’t it ? ”

The boy put his hand to his head as if he were making an
effort to recollect something and then, looking vacantly at
his questioner, gradually broke into a smile, and limped away;

“ I’ll tell you what, Squeers,” remarked his wife as the door
closed, “ I think that young chap’s turning silly.”

“ i hope not, for he’s a handy fellow out of doors, and worth
his meat and drink, anyway. I should think he’d have wit
enough for us, though, if he was. But come, lets have
supper, for I am hungry and tired, and want to go to bed.”

This reminder brought in an exclusive steak for Mr.
Squeers, who speedily proceeded t© do it ample justice.
Nicholas drew up his chair, but his appetite was effectually
taken away.

“ How’s the steak, Squeers?” said Mrs. S.

“ Tender as a lamb. Have a bit.”

“ I couldn’t eat a morsel. What’ll the young man take, my
dear? ”

“ Whatever he likes that’s present,” rejoined Squeers, in
a most unusual burst of generosity.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 37

“What do you say, Mr. Knuckleby?” inquired Mrs.
Squeers.

“ I’ll take a little of the pie, if you please, a very little,
for I’m not hungry.”

“ Well, it’s a pity to cut the pie if you’re not hungry, isn’t
it? ” said Mrs. Squeers. “ Will you try a bit of the beef? ”

“Whatever you please,” replied Nicholas, abstractedly;
“ it’s all the same to me.”

Mrs. Squeers looked vastly gracious on receiving this reply,
and nodding to Squeers, as much as to say that she was glad
to find the young man knew his station, assisted Nicholas
to a slice of meat with her own fair hands.

“ Uncommon juicy steak that,” said Squeers, as he laid
down his knife and fork, after plying it, in silence, for some
time.

“ It’s prime meat,” rejoined his lady, “I bought a good large
piece of it myself on purpose for - ”

“For what! ” exclaimed Squeers hastily. “Not for the
— boys ? ”

“ No, no; not for them,” rejoined Mrs. Squeers; “ on pur¬
pose for you against you came home. Lor! you didn’t think
I could have made such a mistake as that.”

“ Upon my word, my dear, I didn’t know what you were
going to say,” said Squeers, who had turned pale.

“ You needn’t make yourself uncomfortable,” remarked
his wife, laughing heartily. “ To think that I should be such
a noddy! Well! ”

This part of the conversation was unintelligible to Nicholas,
but Squeers frequently purchased, for the boys to eat, the
bodies of cattle who had died from sickness, and he was afraid
of having unintentionally devoured some choice morsel in¬
tended for the young gentlemen.

Supper being over and removed by a small servant girl
with a hungry eye, Mrs. Squeers retired to lock it up, and

38

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

also to take into safe custody the clothes of the five boys
who had just arrived and who were half-way up the trouble¬
some flight of steps which leads to death’s door, in conse¬
quence of exposure to the cold. They were then regaled with
a light supper of porridge and stowed away, side by side, in
a small bedstead, to warm each other, and dream of a sub¬
stantial meal with something hot after it, if their fancies set
that way, which it is not at all improbable they did.

At length, Mr. Squeers yawned fearfully and said that it
was high time to go to bed; upon which signal, Mrs. Squeers
and the girl dragged in a small straw mattress and a couple
of blankets, and arranged them into a couch for Nicholas.

“ We’ll put you into your regular bedroom tomorrow,
Nickleby,” said Squeers. “Let me see! Who sleeps in
Brooks’s bed, my dear? ”

“ In Brooks’s,” said Mrs. Squeers, pondering. “ There’s
Jennings, little Bolder, Graymarsh, and what’s his name.”

“ So there is,” rejoined Squeers. “ Yes! Brooks is full.”

“ Full! ” thought Nicholas. “ I should think he was.”

“ There’s a place somewhere, I know,” said Squeers ; “ but
I can’t at this moment call to mind where it is. However,
we’ll have that all settled tomorrow. Good night, Nickleby.
Seven o’clock in the morning, mind.”

“ I shall be ready, sir, good night.”

“ I’ll come in myself and show you where the well is,” said
Squeers. “ You’ll always find a little bit of soap in the
kitchen window; that belongs to you.”

Nicholas opened his eyes, but not his mouth; and Squeers
was again going away, when he once more turned back.

“ I don’t know, I am sure, whose towel to put you on ; but
if you’ll make shift with something tomorrow morning, Mrs.
Squeers will arrange that, in the course of the day. My dear,
don’t forget.”

“ I’ll take care, and mind you take care, young man, and

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

39

get first wash. The teacher ought always to have it ; but they
get the better of him if they can,” said Mrs. Squeers.

Nicholas, being left alone, took half a dozen turns up and
down the room in a condition of much agitation and excite¬
ment ; but growing gradually calmer, sat down in a chair and
resolved that, come what might, he would endeavour, for a
time, to bear whatever wretchedness might be in store for
him, and that remembering the helplessness of his mother
and sister, he would give his uncle no plea for deserting them
in their need. Good resolutions seldom fail of producing
some good effect in the mind from which they spring. He
grew less desponding, and — so sanguine and buoyant is
youth — even hoped that affairs at Dotheboys Hall might yet
prove better than they promised.

He was preparing for bed, with something like renewed
cheerfulness, when a sealed letter fell from his coat pocket.
In the hurry of leaving London, it had escaped his attention,
and had not occurred to him since, but it at once brought
back to him the recollection of the mysterious behaviour of
Newman Noggs.

“Dear me!” said Nicholas; “what an extraordinary
hand! ” It was directed to himself, was written upon very
dirty paper, and in such cramped and crippled writing as
to be almost illegible. After great difficulty and much
puzzling, he contrived to read as follows :

My Dear Young Man:

“ I know the world. Your father did not, or he would not
have done me a kindness when there was no hope of re¬
turn. You do not, or you would not be bound on such a
journey.

If ever you want a shelter in London (don’t be angry
at this, I once thought I never should) , they know where I
live, at the sign of the Crown, in Silver Street, Golden
Square. It is at the corner of Silver Street and James

40

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Street, with a bar door both ways. You can come at night.
Once, nobody was ashamed — never mind that. It’s all
over.

Excuse errors. I should forget how to wear a whole coat
now. I have forgotten all my old ways. My spelling may
have gone with them.

Newman Noggs.

It may be a very undignified circumstance to record, but
after he had folded this letter and placed it in his pocket-
book, Nicholas Nickleby’s eyes were dimmed with a moisture
that might have been taken for tears.

CHAPTER V

RIDE of two hundred miles in severe weather is one
of the best softeners of a hard bed. Perhaps it is even

a sweetener of dreams, for those which hovered over the rough
couch of Nicholas and whispered their airy nothings in his
ear were of an agreeable and happy kind. He was making
his fortune very fast indeed, when the faint glimmer of a
candle shone before his eyes, and a voice he had no difficulty
in recognizing as Mr. Squeers’s, admonished him that it was
time to rise.

“ Past seven, Nickleby.”

“ Has morning come already ? ” asked Nicholas, sitting up
in bed.

“Ah! that has it, and ready iced, too. Now, Nickleby,
come; tumble up, will you? ”

Nicholas needed no further admonition, but tumbled up
at once, and proceeded to dress himself by the light of the
taper which Mr. Squeers carried in his hand.

“ Here’s a pretty go,” said that gentleman; “ the pump’s
froze.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

41

“ Indeed ! ” said Nicholas, not much interested in the in¬
telligence.

“ Yes, you can’t wash yourself this morning.”

“ Not wash myself! ”

“ No, not a bit of it, so you must be content with giving
yourself a dry polish, till we break the ice in the well, and
can get a bucket out for the boys. Don’t stand staring at
me, but look sharp, will you ? ”

Offering no further observation, Nicholas huddled on his
clothes. Squeers meanwhile opened the shutters and blew
the candle out, when the voice of his amiable wife was heard
in the passage, demanding admittance.

“ Come in, my love,” said Squeers.

Mrs. Squeers came in, still habited in the night jacket
which had displayed the symmetry of her figure on the previ¬
ous night, and further ornamented with a beaver bonnet of
some antiquity, which she wore on top of the nightcap.

“ Drat the things,” said the lady, opening the cupboard;
“ I can’t find the school spoon anywhere.”

“ Never mind it, my dear,” observed Squeers in a soothing
manner; “it’s of no consequence.”

“No consequence, why how you talk! Isn’t it brimstone
morning ? ”

“I forgot, my dear,” rejoined Squeers; “yes, it certainly
is. We purify the boys’ blood now and then, Nickleby.”

“ Purify fiddlesticks’ ends,” said his lady. “ Don’t think,
young man, that we go to expense of flowers of brimstone
and molasses just to purify them, because, if you think we
carry on the business in that way, you’ll find yourself mis¬
taken, and so I tell you plainly.”

“ My dear,” said Squeers frowning.

“Oh! nonsense,” rejoined Mrs. Squeers. “If the young
man comes to be a teacher here, let him understand at once
that we don’t want any foolery about the boys. They have

42

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

the brimstone and molasses partly because, if they hadn’t
something or other in the way of medicine they’d be always
ailing and giving a world of trouble, and partly because it
spoils their appetites and comes cheaper than breakfast and
dinner. So it does them good and us good at the same time,
and that’s fair enough, I’m sure.”

Having given this explanation, Mrs. Squeers put her hand
into the closet and instituted a stricter search after the
spoon, in which Mr. Squeers assisted.

A vast deal of searching and rummaging ensued. This
proving fruitless, Smike was called in. He was pushed by
Mrs. Squeers and boxed by Mr. Squeers, which course of
treatment, brightening his intellect, enabled him to suggest
that possibly Mrs. Squeers might have the spoon in her
pocket, which turned out to be the case. As Mrs. Squeers
had previously protested, however, that she was quite cer¬
tain she had not got it, Smike received another box on the
ear for presuming to contradict his mistress, together with a
promise of a sound thrashing if he were not more respectful
in future.

“ A most invaluable woman, that, Nickleby,” said Squeers
when his wife had hurried away, pushing the drudge before
her.

“ Indeed, sir! ” observed Nicholas.

“ I don’t know her equal,” said Squeers ; “ I do not know
her equal. That woman, Nickleby, is always the same —
always the same bustling, lively, saving creetur that you see
her now.”

Nicholas sighed involuntarily at the thought of the agree¬
able domestic prospect thus opened to him, but Squeers
was fortunately too much occupied with his own reflections
to perceive it.

“ It’s my way to say, when I am up in London,” continued
Squeers, “ that to them boys she is a mother. But she is

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

43

more than a mother to them — ten times more. She does
things for them boys, Nickleby, that I don’t believe half the
mothers going would do for their own sons.”

“ I should think they would not, sir.”

“ But come,” said Squeers, interrupting the progress of
some thoughts to this effect in the mind of his usher, “ let’s
go to the schoolroom; and lend me a hand with my school
coat, will you? ”

Nicholas assisted his master to put on an old jacket, which
he took down from a peg in the passage ; and Squeers, arming
himself with his cane, led the way across a yard to a door in
the rear of the house.

“ There,” said the schoolmaster as they stepped in together,
“ this is our shop, Nickleby ! ”

It was such a crowded scene, and there were so many
objects to attract attention that, at first, Nicholas stared
about him, really without seeing anything at all. By degrees,
however, the place resolved itself into a bare and dirty room,
with a couple of windows, whereof a tenth part might be
of glass, the remainder being stopped up with old copybooks
and paper. There were a couple of long old rickety desks,
cut and notched, and inked, and damaged in every possible
way; two or three benches, a detached desk for Squeers, and
another for his assistant. The ceiling was supported, like
that of a barn, by crossbeams and rafters; and the wTalls
were so stained and discoloured that it was impossible to tell
whether they had ever been touched with paint or white¬
wash.

But the pupils — the young noblemen! How the last
faint traces of hope, the remotest glimmering of any good
to be derived from his efforts in this den, faded from the
mind of Nicholas as he looked in dismay around! Pale and
haggard faces, lank and bony figures, children with the
countenances of old men, deformities with irons upon their

44

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

limbs, boys of stunted growth, and others whose long meagre
legs would hardly bear their stooping bodies, all crowded on
the view together. With every kindly sympathy and affec¬
tion blasted at its birth, with every young and healthy feeling
flogged and starved down, with every revengeful passion that
can fester in swollen hearts eating its evil way to their core
in silence, what an incipient hell was breeding here!

And vet this scene, painful as it was, had its grotesque
features, which, in a less interested observer than Nicholas
might have provoked a smile. Mrs. Squeers stood at one of
the desks, presiding over an immense basin of sulphur and
molasses of which delicious compound she administered a
large installment to each boy in succession. She was using
for the purpose a common wooden spoon, which might have
been originally manufactured for some gigantic top, and which
widened every young gentleman’s mouth considerably; they
being all obliged, under heavy corporal penalties, to take
in the whole of the bowl at a gasp. In another corner,
huddled together for companionship, were the little boys
who had arrived on the preceding night, three of them in very
large leather breeches and two in old trousers, a something
tighter fit than drawers are usually worn. At no great dis¬
tance from these was seated the juvenile son and heir of Mr.
Squeers — a striking likeness of his father — kicking, with
great vigour, under the hands of Smike, who was fitting upon
him a pair of new boots that bore a most suspicious re¬
semblance to those which the least of the little boys had
worn on the journey down — as the little boy himself seemed
to think, for he was regarding the appropriation with a look
of most rueful amazement. Besides these, there was a long
row of boys waiting, with countenances of no pleasant antici¬
pation, to be treacled; and another file, who had just escaped
from the infliction, making a variety of wry mouths indicative
of anything but satisfaction. The whole were attired in such

Of which delicious compound she administered a large
installment to each boy in succession.

45

46

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

motley, ill-sorted, extraordinary garments, as would have
been irresistibly ridiculous, but for the foul appearance of
dirt, disorder, and disease with which they were associated.

“ Now,” said Squeers, giving the desk a great rap with his
cane, which made half the little boys nearly jump out of their
boots, “ is that physicking over? ”

“Just over!” said Mrs. Squeers, choking the last boy in
her hurry, and tapping the crown of his head with the wooden
spoon to restore him. “Here, you Smike; take away now.
Look sharp ! ”

Smike shuffled out with the basin; and Mrs. Squeers, having
called up a little boy with a curly head and wiped her hands
upon it, hurried out after him into a species of wash-house,
where there was a small fire and a large kettle, together with
a number of little wooden bowls which were arranged upon
a board.

Into these bowls, Mrs. Squeers, assisted by the hungry
servant, poured a brown composition which looked like
diluted pincushions without the covers, and was called por¬
ridge. A minute wedge of brown bread was inserted in each
bowl; and when they had eaten their porridge by means of
the bread, the boys- ate the bread itself, and had finished their
breakfast; whereupon Mr. Squeers said, in a solemn voice,
“ For what we have received, may the Lord make us truly
thankful ! ” — and went away to his own.

Nicholas distended his stomach with a bowl of porridge,
for much the same reason which induces some savages to
swallow earth — lest they should be hungry when there is
nothing to eat. Having further disposed of a slice of bread
and butter, alloted to him in virtue of his office, he sat himself
down to wait for school time.

He observed how silent and sad the boys all seemed to be.
There was none of the noise and clamour of a schoolroom,
none of its boisterous play or hearty mirth. The children sat

47

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

crouching and shivering together and seemed to lack the
spirit to move about. The only pupil who evinced the
slightest tendency towards locomotion or playfulness was
Master Squeers; and since his chief amusement was to tread
upon the other boys’ toes in his new boots, his flow of spirits
was rather disagreeable than otherwise.

After some half-hour’s delay, Mr. Squeers reappeared, and
the boys took their places and their books, of which the
average might be about one to eight learners. A few minutes
having elapsed, during which Mr. Squeers looked very pro¬
found, as if he had a perfect apprehension of what was inside
all the books, and could say every word of their contents
by heart if he only chose to take the trouble, that gentleman
called up the first class.

Obedient to this summons there ranged themselves in front
of the schoolmaster’s desk, half a dozen scarecrows, out at
knees and elbows, one of whom placed a torn and filthy
book beneath his learned eye.

“ This is the first class in English spelling and philosophy,
Nickleby,” said Squeers, beckoning Nicholas to stand beside
him. “ We’ll get up a Latin one, and hand that over to you.
Now, then, where’s the first boy? ”

“ Please, sir, he’s cleaning the back parlour window,” said
the temporary head of the philosophical class.

“ So he is, to be sure,” rejoined Squeers. “ We go upon
the practical mode of teaching, Nickleby; the regular educa¬
tion system. C-l-e-a-n, clean, verb active, to make bright,
to scour. W-i-n, win, d-e-r, der, winder, a casement. When
the boy knows this out of the book, he goes and does it. It’s
just the same principle as the use of the globes. Where’s the
second boy ? ”

" Please, sir, he’s weeding the garden,” replied a small voice.

“ To be sure,” said Squeers, by no means disconcerted.
“ So he is. B-o-t, bot, t-i-n, tin, bottin, n-e-y, ney, bottinney^

48

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

noun substantive, a knowledge of plants. When he has
learned that bottinney means a knowledge of plants, he goes
and knows ’em. That’s our system, Nickleby; what do
you think of it ? ”

“ It’s a very useful one, at any rate,” answered Nicholas.

“ I believe you,” rejoined Squeers, not remarking the
emphasis of his usher. “ Third boy, what’s a horse? ”

“ A beast, sir,” replied the boy. .

“ So it is,” said Squeers. “ Ain’t it, Nickleby? ”

“ I believe there is no doubt of that, sir,” answered Nicholas.

“ Of course there isn’t,” said Squeers. “ A horse is a
quadruped, and quadruped’s Latin for beast, as everybody
that’s gone through the grammar knows, or else where’s
the use of having grammars at all ? ”

“Where, indeed! ” said Nicholas abstractedly.

“ As you’re perfect in that,” resumed Squeers, turning to
the boy, “ go and look after my horse, and rub him down
well, or I’ll rub you down. The rest of the class go and draw
water up, till somebody tells you to leave off, for it’s washing
day tomorrow, and they want the boilers filled.”

So saying, he dismissed the first class to their experiments in
practical philosophy, and eyed Nicholas with a look, half¬
cunning and half-doubtful, as if he were not altogether cer¬
tain what he might think of him by this time.

“ That’s the way we do it, Nickleby,” he said, after a pause.

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders in a manner that was
scarcely perceptible, and said he saw it was.

“ And a very good way it is, too,” said Squeers. “ Now,
just take them fourteen little boys and hear them some read¬
ing, because, you know, you must begin to be useful. Idling
about here won’t do.”

Mr. Squeers said this, as if it had suddenly occurred to him,
either that he must not say too much to his assistant, or that
his assistant did not say enough to him in praise of the

49

NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y

establishment. The children were arranged in a semi-circle
around the new master, and he was soon listening to their
dull, drawling, hesitating recital of those stories of engrossing
interest which are to be found in the more antiquated spelling
books.

In this exciting occupation, the morning lagged heavily on.
At one o’clock, the boys, having previously had their appetites
thoroughly taken away by stir-about and potatoes, sat down
in the kitchen to some hard salt beef, of which Nicholas was
graciously permitted to take his portion to his own solitary
desk, to eat it there in peace. After this, there was another
hour of crouching in the schoolroom and shivering with cold,
and then school began again.

It was Mr. Squeers’s custom to call the boys together and
make a sort of report, after every half-yearly visit to London,
regarding the relations and friends he had seen, the news he
had heard, the letters he had brought down, the bills which
had been paid, the accounts which had been left unpaid, and
so forth. This solemn proceeding always took place in the
afternoon of the day succeeding his return; perhaps, because
the boys acquired strength of mind from the suspense of the
morning, or possibly, because Mr. Squeers himself acquired
greater sternness and inflexibility from certain warm pota¬
tions in which he was wont to indulge after his early dinner.
Be this as it may, the boj^s were recalled from house window,
garden, stable, and cow yard, and the school was assembled
in full conclave, when Mr. Squeers, with a small bundle of
papers in his hand, and Mrs. S. following with a pair of canes,
entered the room and proclaimed silence.

“ Let any boy speak a word without leave,” said Mr.
Squeers mildly, “and I’ll take the skin off his back.”

This special proclamation had the desired effect, and a
deathlike silence immediately prevailed, in the midst of
which Mr. Squeers went on to say :

50

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Boys, IVe been to London, and have returned to my
family and' you, as strong and well as ever.”

According to half-yearly custom, the boys gave three feeble
cheers at this refreshing intelligence. Such cheers! Sighs
of extra strength with the chill on.

“ I have seen the parents of some boys,” continued Squeers,
turning over his papers, “ and they’re so glad to hear how
their sons are getting on that there’s no prospect at all of
their going away, which of course is a very pleasant thing to
reflect upon, for all parties.”

Two or three hands went to two or three eyes when Squeers
said this, but the greater part of the young gentlemen, having
no particular parents to speak of, were wholly uninterested
in the thing one way or other.

“ I have had disappointments to contend against,” said
Squeers, looking very grim; “ Bolder’s father was two pound
ten short. Where is Bolder ? ”

“ Here he is, please, sir,” rejoined twenty officious voices.
Boys are very like men, to be sure.

“ Come here, Bolder,” said Squeers.

An unhealthy-looking boy, with warts all over his hands,
stepped from his place to the master’s desk, and raised his
eyes imploringly to Squeer’s face, his own, quite white from
the rapid beating of his heart.

“ Bolder,” said Squeers, speaking very slowly, for he was
considering, as the saying goes, where to have him. “ Bolder,
if your father thinks that because — why, what’s this, sir? ”

As Squeers spoke, he caught up the boy’s hand by the cuff
of his jacket, and surveyed it with an edifying aspect of
horror and disgust.

“ What do you call this, sir? ” demanded the schoolmaster,
administering a cut with the cane to expedite the reply.

“ I can’t help it, indeed, sir,” rejoined the boy, crying.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 51

“ They will come; it’s the dirty work, I think, sir — at least
I don’t know what it is, sir, but it’s not my fault.”

“ Bolder,” said Squeers, tucking up his wristbands and
moistening the palm of his right hand to get a good grip of the
cane, “ you are an incorrigible young scoundrel, and as the
last thrashing did you no good, we must see what another
will do towards beating it out of you.”

With this, and wholly disregarding a piteous cry for mercy,
Mr. Squeers fell upon the boy and caned him soundly, not
leaving off, indeed, until his arm was tired out.

“There,” said Squeers, when he had quite done; “rub
away as hard as you like, you* won’t rub that off in a hurry.
Oh! you won’t hold that noise, won’t you? Put him out,
Smike.”

The drudge knew better from long experience than to
hesitate about obeying, so he bundled the victim out by a
side door; and Mr. Squeers perched himself again on his
own stool, supported by Mrs. Squeers, who occupied another
at his side.

“ Now let us see,” said Squeers, “ a letter for Cobbey.
Stand up, Cobbey.”

Another boy stood up and eyed the letter very hard while
Squeers made a mental abstract of the same.

“ Oh ! ” said Squeers : “ Cobbey’s grandmother is dead, and
his uncle John has took to drinking, which is all the news
his sister sends, except eighteenpence, which will just pay
for that broken square of glass. Mrs. Squeers, my dear, will
you take the money ? ”

The worthy lady pocketed the eighteenpence with a most
businesslike air, and Squeers passed on to the next boy, as
coolfy as possible.

“ Graymarsh,” said Squeers. “ He’s the next. Stand up,
Graymarsh.”

52

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Another boy stood up, and the schoolmaster looked over the
letter as before.

“ Graymarsh’s maternal aunt,” said Squeers, when he had
possessed himself of the contents, “ is very glad to hear he’s
so well and happy, and sends her respectful compliments to
Mrs. Squeers, and thinks she must be an angel. She like¬
wise thinks Mr. Squeers is too good for this world, but hopes
he may long be spared to carry on the business. Would have
sent the two pairs of stockings as desired, but is short of
money, so forwards a tract instead, and hopes Graymarsh
will put his trust in Providence. Hopes, above all, that he
will study in everything to please Mr. and Mrs. Squeers, and
look upon them as his only friends; and that he will love
Master Squeers; and not object to sleeping five in a bed,
which* no Christian should. Ah! ” said Squeers, folding
it up, “ a delightful letter. Very affecting indeed.”

Squeers proceeded with the business by calling out
“Mobbs,” whereupon another boy rose, and Graymarsh re¬
sumed his seat.

“ Mobbs’s stepmother,” said Squeers, “ took to her bed on
hearing that he wouldn’t eat fat, and has been very ill ever
since. She wishes to know, by an early post, where he ex¬
pects to go if he quarrels with his vittles and with what
feelings he could turn up his nose at the cow’s liver broth,
after his good master had asked a blessing on it. This was
told her in the London newspapers — not by Mr. Squeers,
for he is too kind and too good to set anybody against any¬
body — and it has vexed her so much, Mobbs can’t think.
She is sorry to find he is discontented, which is sinful and
horrid, and hopes Mr. Squeers will flog him into a happier
state of mind; with this view, she has also stopped his half¬
penny a week pocket money, and given a double-bladed knife
with a corkscrew in it to the missionaries, which she had
bought on purpose for him.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

53

“ A sulky state of feeling/’ said Squeers, after a terrible
pause, during which he had moistened the palm of his right
hand again, “ won’t do. Cheerfulness and contentment must
be kept up. Mobbs, come to me ! ”

Mobbs moved slowly towards the desk, rubbing his eyes
in anticipation of good cause for doing so ; and he soon after¬
wards retired by the side door, with as good cause as a boy
need have.

Mr. Squeers then proceeded to open a miscellaneous collec¬
tion of letters; some enclosing money, which Mrs. Squeers
“took care of”; and others referring to small articles of
apparel as caps and so forth, all of which the same lady stated
to be too large or too small, and calculated for nobody but
young Squeers, who would appear indeed to have had the
most accommodating limbs, since everything that came into
the school fitted him to a nicety. His head in particular
must have been singularly elastic, for hats and caps of all
dimensions were alike to him.

This business despatched, a few slovenly lessons were
performed, and Squeers retired to his fireside, leaving Nicholas
to take care of the boys in the schoolroom, which was very
cold, and where a meal of bread and cheese was served out
shortly after dark.

There was a small stove at that corner of the room which
was nearest to the master’s desk, and by it Nicholas sat down,
so depressed and self-degraded by the consciousness of his
position that if death could have come upon him at that time
he would have been almost happy to meet it. The cruelty,
of which he had been an unwilling witness, the coarse and
ruffianly behaviour of Squeers even in his best moods, the
filthy place, the sights and sounds about him, all contributed
to this state of feeling; but when he recollected that, being an
assistant, he actually seemed — no matter what unhappy
train of circumstances had brought him to that pass — to

54

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

be the aider and abettor of a system which filled him with
honest disgust and indignation, he loathed himself and felt,
for the moment, as though the mere consciousness of his
present situation must, through all time to come, prevent his
raising his head again.

But for the present his resolve was taken, and the reso¬
lution he had formed on the preceding night remained un¬
disturbed. He had written to his mother and sister, an¬
nouncing the safe conclusion of his journey and saying little
about Dotheboys Hall, and saying that little as cheerfully
as he possibly could. He hoped that by remaining where
he was he might do some good, even there; at all events,
others depended too much on his uncle’s favour to admit of
his awakening his wrath just then.

One reflection disturbed him far more than any selfish
considerations arising out of his own position. This was
the probable destination of his sister Kate. His uncle had
deceived him, and might he not consign her to some miserable
place where her youth and beauty would prove a far greater
curse than ugliness and decrepitude? To a caged man,
bound hand and foot, this was a terrible idea; — but no, he
thought, his mother was by; there was the portrait painter,
too — simple enough, but still living in the world, and of it.
He was willing to believe that Ralph Nickleby had con¬
ceived a personal dislike to himself. Having pretty good
reason, by this time, to reciprocate it, he had no great diffi¬
culty in arriving at this conclusion, and tried to persuade
himself that the feeling extended no farther than between
them.

As he was absorbed in these meditations, he all at once
encountered the upturned face of Smike, who was on his
knees before the stove, picking a few stray cinders from the
hearth and planting them on the fire. He had paused to
steal a look at Nicholas; and when he saw that he was
observed, shrunk back, as if expecting a blow.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 55

“ You need not fear me/’ said Nicholas kindly. “ Are you
cold? ”

“ N-o-o.”

“ You are shivering.”

“ I am not cold,” replied Smike. “ I am used to it.”

There was such an obvious fear of giving offense in his
manner, and he was such a timid, broken-spirited creature
that Nicholas could not help exclaiming, “ Poor fellow ! ”

If he had struck the drudge, he would have slunk away
without a word. But now he began to cry despairingly.

“ Oh dear, oh dear ! ” he said, covering his face with his
cracked and horny hands. “ My heart will break. It will,
it will.”

“ Hush ! ” said Nicholas, laying his hand upon hi£ shoulder.
“ Be a man; you are nearly one by years, God help you.”

“By years! ” cried Smike. “Oh dear, dear, how many
of them! How many of them since I was a little child,
younger than any that are here now ! Where are they all ? ”

“ Whom do you speak of ? ” inquired Nicholas, wishing to
rouse the poor half-witted creature to reason. “ Tell me.”

“My friends,” he replied, “myself — my — oh! what
sufferings mine have been! ”

“ There is always hope,” said Nicholas; he knew not what
to say.

“No,” rejoined the other, “no; none for me. Do you
remember the boy that died here ? ”

“ I was not here, you know,” said Nicholas gently; “ but
what of him ? ”

“ Why,” replied the youth, drawing closer to his question¬
er’s side, “ I was with him at night, and when it was all
silent he cried no more for friends he wished to come and sit
with him, but began to see faces around his bed that came
from home; he said they smiled, and talked to him; and he
died at last lifting his head to kiss them. Do you hear? ”

56

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Yes, yes,” rejoined Nicholas.

“ What faces will smile on me when I die ! ” cried his com¬
panion, shivering. “ Who will talk to me in those long
nights! They cannot come from home; they would frighten
me, if they did, for I don’t know what it is, and shouldn’t
know them. Pain and fear, pain and fear for me, alive or
dead. No hope, no hope! ”

The bell rang to bed; and the boy, subsiding at the sound
into his usual listless state, crept away as if anxious to avoid
notice. It was with a heavy heart that Nicholas soon after¬
wards followed — to his dirty and crowded dormitory.

CHAPTER VI

WHEN Mr. Squeers left the schoolroom for the night,
he went to his own fireside, which was situated —
not in the room in which Nicholas had supped on the night of
his arrival, but in a smaller apartment in the rear of the
premises, where his lady wife, his amiable son, and accom¬
plished daughter were in the full enjoyment of each other’s
society. Mrs. Squeers was engaged in the matronly pursuit
of stocking-darning; and the young lady and gentleman were
occupied in the adjustment of some youthful difference, by
means of a pugilistic contest across the table, which, on the
approach of their honoured parent, subsided into a noiseless
exchange of kicks beneath it.

In this place, it may be as well to apprise the reader, that
Miss Fanny Squeers was in her three-and-twentieth year.
She was not tall like her mother, but short like her father.
From the former she inherited a voice of harsh quality;
from the latter a remarkable expression of the right eye,
something akin to having none at all.-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

57

Miss Squeers had been spending a few days with a neigh¬
bouring friend, and had only just returned to the parental
roof. To this circumstance may be referred her having heard
nothing of Nicholas until Mr. Squeers himself now made
him the subject of conversation.

“ Well, my dear,” said Squeers, drawing up his chair,
“ what do you think of him by this time? ”

“ Think of who? ” inquired Mrs. Squeers; who (as she often
remarked) was no grammarian, thank heaven.

“ Of that young man — the new teacher — who else could
I mean? ”

“Oh! that Knuckleboy,” said Mrs. Squeers impatiently.
“ I hate him.”

“ What do you hate him for, my dear? ” asked Squeers.

“ What’s that to you?” retorted Mrs. Squeers. “If I
hate him, that's enough, ain’t it ? ”

“ Quite enough for him, my dear, and a great deal too much,
I dare say, if he knew it,” replied Squeers in a pacific tone. “ I
only asked from curiosity, my dear.”

“ Well, then, if you want to know, I’ll tell you. Because
he’s a proud, haughty, consequential, turned-up-nosed pea¬
cock.”

“ Hem!” said Squeers, “ he is cheap, my dear; the young
man is very cheap.”

“ Not a bit of it.”

“ Five pound a year.”

“What of that; it’s dear if you don’t want him, isn’t
it?”

“ But we do want him.”

“ I don’t see that you want him any more than the dead.
Don’t tell me. You can put on the cards and in the ad¬
vertisements, ‘ Education by Mr. Wackford Squeers and able
assistants,’ without having any assistants, can’t you? I’ve
no patience with you.”

58

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“Haven’t you!” said Squeers, sternly. “Now I’ll tell
you what, Mrs. Squeers. In this matter of having a teacher,
I’ll take my own way, if you please. A slave driver in the
West Indies is allowed a man under him to see that his blacks
don’t run away, or get up a rebellion; and I’ll have a man
under me to do the same with our blacks, till such time as
little Wackford is able to take charge of the school.”

“ Am I to take care of the school when I grow up a man,
father? ” said Wackford junior, suspending, in the excess of
his delight, a vicious kick which he was administering to his
sister.

“ You are, my son.”

“ Oh my eye, won’t I give it to the boys ! ” exclaimed the
interesting child, grasping his father’s cane. “ Oh, father,
won’t I make ’em squeak again! ”

It was a proud moment in Mr. Squeers’s life when he
witnessed that burst of enthusiasm in his young child’s mind
and saw in it a foreshadowing of his future eminence.

“ He’s a nasty stuck-up monkey — that’s what I consider
him,” said Mrs. Squeers, reverting to Nicholas.

“ Supposing he is,” said Squeers, “ he is as well stuck up
in our schoolroom as anywhere else, isn’t he? — especially
as he don’t like it.”

“ Well, there’s something in that. I hope it’ll bring his
pride down, and it shall be no fault of mine if it don’t.”

Now a proud usher in a Yorkshire school was such a very
extraordinary and unaccountable thing to hear of — any
usher at all being a novelty, but a proud one, a being of whose
existence the wildest imagination could never have dreamed #
— that Miss Squeers, who seldom troubled herself with
scholastic matters, inquired with much curiosity who this
Knuckleboy was, that gave himself such airs.

“ Nickleby,” said Squeers, spelling the name according to
some eccentric system which prevailed in his own mind;

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 59

“ your mother always calls things and people by their wrong
names.”

“ No matter for that,” said Mrs. Squeers, “ Lsee them with
right eyes, and that’s quite enough for me-. I watched him
when you were laying on to little Bolder, this afternoon.
He looked as black as thunder all the while, and one time
started up as if he had more than got it in his mind to make
a rush at you, I saw him, though he thought I didn’t.”

“ Never mind that, father,” said Miss Squeers, as the head
of the family was about to reply. “ Who is the man ? ”

“ Why, your father has got some nonsense in his head that
he’s the son of a poor gentleman that died the other day,”
said Mrs. Squeers.

“ The son of a gentleman ! ”

“ Yes, but I don’t believe a word of it. I say again, I hate
him worse than poison,” said Mrs. Squeers, vehemently.

“ If you dislike him, my dear,” returned Squeers, “ I don’t
know anybody who can show dislike better than you, and of
course there’s no occasion, with him, to take the trouble to
hide it.”

“ I don’t intend to, I assure you.”

“ That’s right, and if he has a touch of pride about him, as
I think he has, I don’t believe there’s a woman in all England
that can bring anybody’s spirit down as quick as you can,
my love.”

Mrs. Squeers chuckled vastly on the receipt of these
flattering compliments, and said she hoped she had tamed
a high spirit or two in her day. It is but due to her character
to say that, in conjunction with her estimable husband, she
had broken many and many a one.

Miss Fanny Squeers carefully treasured up this, and much
more conversation on the same subject, until she retired for
the night, when she questioned the hungry servant minutely
regarding the appearance of Nicholas; to which queries the

60

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

girl returned such enthusiastic replies, touching his beauti¬
ful dark eyes and his sweet smile and his straight legs —
upon which last-named articles she laid particular stress,
the general run of legs at Dotheboys Hall being crooked —
that Miss Squeers was not long in arriving at the conclusion
that the new usher must be a very remarkable person.
And so Miss Squeers made up her mind that she would take
a personal observation of Nicholas the very next day.

The young lady watched the opportunity of her mother
being engaged, and her father absent, and went accidentally
into the schoolroom to get a pen mended: where, seeing
nobody but Nicholas presiding over the boys, she blushed
very deeply, and exhibited great confusion.

“ I beg your pardon,” faltered Miss Squeers; “ I thought
my father was — or might be — dear me, how very awk¬
ward! ”

“ Mr. Squeers is out,” said Nicholas, by no means overcome
by the apparition, unexpected though it was.

“ Do you know will he be long, sir ? ” asked Miss Squeers,
with bashful hesitation.

“ He said about an hour,” replied Nicholas — politely, of
course, but without any indication of being stricken to the
heart by Miss Squeers’s charms.

“ I never knew anything happen so cross,” exclaimed the
young lady. “ Thank you! I am very sorry I intruded, I
am sure. If I hadn’t thought my father was here, I wouldn’t
upon any account have — it is very provoking — must look
so very strange,” murmured Miss Squeers, blushing once
more, and glancing from the pen in her hand to Nicholas at
his desk, and back again.

“ If that is all you want,” said Nicholas, pointing to the
pen and smiling, in spite of himself, at the affected embarrass¬
ment of the schoolmaster’s daughter, “ perhaps I can supply
his place.”

Miss Squeers glanced at the door, as if dubious of the

61

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

propriety of advancing any nearer to an utter stranger; then
round the schoolroom, as though in some measure reassured
by the presence of forty boys; and finally sidled up to
Nicholas and delivered the pen into his hand with a most
winning mixture of reserve and condescension.

“ Shall it be hard or a soft point ? ” inquired Nicholas,
smiling to prevent himself from laughing outright.

“ He has a beautiful smile,” thought Miss Squeers.

“ Which did you say? ” asked Nicholas.

“ Dear me, I was thinking of something else for the mo¬
ment, I declare,” replied Miss Squeers — “ Oh! as soft as
possible, if you please.” With which words, Miss Squeers
sighed. It might be to give Nicholas to understand that her
heart was soft and that the pen was wanted to match.

Upon these instructions Nicholas made the pen. When
he gave it to Miss Squeers, she dropped it; and when he
stooped to pick it up, Miss Squeers stooped also, and they
knocked their heads together; whereat five-and-twenty little
boys laughed aloud: being positively for the first and only
time that half-year.

“ Very awkward of me,” said Nicholas, opening the door
for the young lady’s retreat.

“ Not at all, sir,” replied Miss Squeers; “ it was my fault.
It was all my foolish — a — a — good morning ! ”

“ Qood-bye,” said Nicholas. “ The next I make for you,
I hope will be made less clumsily. Take care! You are
biting the point off now.”

“Really,” said Miss Squeers; “so embarrassing that I
scarcely know what I — very sorry to give you so much
trouble.”

“ Not the least trouble in the world,” replied Nicholas,
closing the schoolroom door.

“ I never saw such legs in the whole course of my life ! ”
said Miss Squeers, as she walked away.

In fact, Miss Squeers was in love with Nicholas Nickleby.

62

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

To account for the rapidity with which this young lady
had conceived a passion for Nicholas, it may be necessary
to state that the friend from whom she had so recently
returned was a miller’s daughter of only eighteen who had
become engaged to the son of a small corn factor,1 resident
in the nearest market town. Miss Squeers and the miller’s
daughter, being fast friends, had promised each other some
two years before that whoever was first engaged to be mar¬
ried should straightway confide the mighty secret to the
bosom of the other, before communicating it to any living
soul, and bespeak her as bridesmaid without loss of time.
In fulfilment of this pledge the miller’s daughter, when her
engagement was formed, came out express at eleven o’clock
at night, as the corn factor’s son made an offer of his hand
and heart at twenty-five minutes past ten by the Dutch
clock in the kitchen, and rushed into Miss Squeers’s bedroom
with the gratifying intelligence. Now Miss Squeers, being
five years older, had been more than commonly anxious to
return the compliment and possess her friend with a similar
secret. The little interview with Nicholas had no sooner
passed than Miss Squeers made her way, very rapidly, to
her friend’s house and revealed how that she was — not
exactly engaged, but going to be — to a gentleman’s son —
(none of your corn factors, but a gentleman’s son of high
descent) — who had come down as teacher to Dotheboys
Hall, under the most mysterious and remarkable circum¬
stances — indeed, as Miss Squeers more than once hinted,
she had good reason to believe, induced, by the fame of her
many charms, to seek her out, and woo and win her.

“ Isn’t it an extraordinary thing ? ” said Miss Squeers,
emphasizing the adjective strongly.

“ Most extraordinary,” replied the friend. “ But what
has he said to you? ”

1 Grain dealer.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 63

“ Don’t ask me what he said, my dear/’ rejoined Miss
Squeers. “If you had only seen his looks and smiles! I
never was so overcome in all my life.”

“ How 1 should like to see him! ” exclaimed the friend.

So you shall, ’Tilda,” replied Miss Squeers. “ I should
consider myself one of the most ungrateful creatures alive if
I denied you. I think mother’s going away for two days
to fetch some boys; and when she does, I’ll ask you and John
up to tea and have him to meet you.”

This was a charming idea, and having fully discussed it, the
friends parted.

It so fell out that Mrs. Squeers’s journey to some distance
was fixed that very afternoon, for the next day but one.

Whenever such opportunities as these occurred, it was
Squeers s custom to drive over to the market town every
evening, on pretense of urgent business, and stop till ten or
eleven o clock at a tavern he much affected. As the party
was not in his way, therefore, but rather afforded a means
of compromise with Miss Squeers (she would not tell her
mother that he went to the tavern), he readily yielded his
full assent hereunto, and willingly communicated to Nicho¬
las that he was expected to take his tea in the parlour that
evening at five o’clock.

Miss Squeers was in a desperate flutter as the time ap¬
proached and dressed out to best advantage; with her hair

it had more than a tinge of red, — curled in five distinct
rows, up to the very top of her head, to say nothing of the
blue sash which floated down her back, or the worked apron,
or the long gloves, or the green gauze scarf, worn over one
shoulder and under the other; or any of the numerous
devices which were to be as so many arrows to the heart
of Nicholas. She had scarcely completed these arrangements
when the friend arrived with a whitey-brown parcel — fiat
and three-ggrnered — containing sundry small adornments

64 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

which were to be put on upstairs, and which the friend put
on, talking incessantly. When Miss Squeers had done
the friend’s hair, the friend “ did ” Miss Squeers’s hair, throw¬
ing in some striking improvements in the way of ringlets down
the neck; and then, when they were both touched up to their
entire satisfaction, they went downstairs in full state with
the long gloves on, all ready for company.

“Where’s John, Tilda?” said Miss Squeers.

“ Only gone home to clean himself,” replied the friend.
“ He will be here by the time the tea’s drawn.”

“ I do so palpitate,” observed Miss Squeers.

“Ah! I know what it is,” replied the friend.

“ I have not been used to it, you know, ’Tilda,” said Miss
Squeers, applying her hand to the left side of her sash.

« You’ll soon get the better of it, dear,” rejoined the friend.
While they were talking thus, the hungry servant brought in
the tea things, and soon afterwards somebody tapped at the
room door.

“There he is! ” cried Miss Squeers. “Oh ’Tilda! ”

“ Hush ! ” said ’Tilda. “ Hem ! Say ' come in.’ ”

“ Come in,” cried Miss Squeers faintly. And in walked
Nicholas.

“ Good evening,” said that young gentleman, all uncon¬
scious of his conquest. “I understood from Mr. Squeers
that - ”

“Oh; it’s all right,” interposed Miss Squeers. “Father
don’t tea with us, but you won’t mind that, I dare say.”
(This was said archly.)

Nicholas opened his eyes at this, but he turned the matter
off very coolly — not caring, particularly, about anything
just then — and went through the ceremony of introduction
to the miller’s daughter with so much grace that that young
lady was lost in admiration.

-“ We are only waiting for one more gentleman,” said Miss

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

65

Squeers, taking off the teapot lid and looking in to see how
the tea was getting on.

It was matter of equal moment to Nicholas whether they
were waiting for one gentleman or twenty, so he received
the intelligence with perfect unconcern; and being out of
spirits and not seeing any especial reason why he should
make himself agreeable, looked out of the window and
sighed involuntarily.

As luck would have it, Miss Squeers’s friend was of a play¬
ful turn, and hearing Nicholas sigh, she took it into her head
to rally the lovers on their lowness of spirits.

“ But if it’s caused by my being here/’ said the young lady,
“ don’t mind me a bit, for I’m quite as bad. You may go on
just as you would if you were alone.”

“ ’Tilda,” said Miss Squeers, colouring up to the top row
of curls, “ I am ashamed of you ” ; and here the two friends
burst into a variety of giggles and glanced, from time to time,
over the tops of their pocket handkerchiefs at Nicholas, who
from a state of unmixed astonishment gradually fell into one
of irrepressible laughter — occasioned partly by the bare
notion of his being in love with Miss Squeers, and partly by
the preposterous appearance and behaviour of the two girls.
These two causes of merriment, taken together, struck him as
being so keenly ridiculous that, despite his miserable condi¬
tion, he laughed till he was thoroughly exhausted.

“ Well,” thought Nicholas, “ as I am here and seem ex¬
pected, for some reason or other, to be amiable, it’s of no
use looking like a goose. I may as well accommodate myself
to the company.”

His youthful spirits and vivacity getting, for a time, the
better of his sad thoughts, he no sooner formed this resolu¬
tion than he saluted Miss Squeers and the friend with great
gallantry, and drawing a chair to the tea table, began to make
himself at home.

66

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The ladies were in the full delight of this altered behaviour
on the part of Mr. Nickleby when the expected swain arrived,
with his hair very damp from recent washing and a clean
shirt, whereof the collar might have belonged to some giant
ancestor.

“ Well, John,” said Miss Matilda Price (which, by the
by, was the name of the miller’s daughter) .

“ Weel,” said John with a grin that even the collar could
not conceal.

“ I beg your pardon,” interposed Miss Squeers, hastening
to do the honours, “ Mr. Nickleby — Mr. John Browdie.”

“ Servant, sir,” said John, who was something over six
feet high.

“ Yours to command, sir,” replied Nicholas, making fear¬
ful ravages on the bread and butter.

Mr. Browdie was not a gentleman of great conversational
powers, so he grinned twice more, and having now bestowed
his customary mark of recognition on every person in com¬
pany, grinned at nothing in particular, and helped himself to
food.

“ Old wooman awa’, bean’t she ? ” said Mr. Browdie, with
his mouth full.

Miss Squeers nodded assent.

Mr. Browdie gave a grin of special width, as if he thought
that really was something to laugh at, and went to work at
the bread and butter with increased vigour. It was quite a
sight to behold how he and Nicholas emptied the plate
between them.

“ Ye wean’t get bread and butther ev’ery neight, I expect,
mun,” said Mr. Browdie, after he had sat staring at Nicholas
a long time over the empty plate.

Nicholas bit his lip and coloured, but affected not to hear
the remark.

“ Ecod,” said Mr. Browdie, laughing boisterously, “ they

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 67

dean t put too much intiv’em. Ye’ll be nowt but skeen and
boans if you stop here long eneaf. Ho! ho! ho! ”

“ You are facetious, sir,” said Nicholas, scornfully.

Na; I dean’t know,” replied Mr. Browdie, “ but t’oother
teacher, ’cod he wur a learn ’un, he wur.” The recollection
of the last teacher’s leanness seemed to afford Mr. Browdie
the most exquisite delight, for he laughed until he found it
necessary to apply his coat cuffs to his eyes.

I don’t know whether your perceptions are quite keen
enough, Mr. Browdie, to enable you to understand that your
remarks are offensive,” said Nicholas in a towering passion,

‘ but if they are, have the goodness to - ”

“ If you say another word, John,” shrieked Miss Price,
stopping her admirer’s mouth as he was about to interrupt,
“ only half a word, I’ll never forgive you, or speak to you
again.”

“ Weel, my lass, I dean’t care aboot ’un,” said the corn
factor, bestowing a hearty kiss on Miss Matilda; “let ’un
gang on, let ’un gang on.”

It now became Miss Squeers’s turn to intercede with Nicho¬
las, wdiich she did with majiy symptoms of alarm and horror;
the effect of the double intercession was that he and John
Browdie shook hands across the table with much gravity, and
such was the imposing nature of the ceremonial that Miss
Squeers was overcome and shed tears.

What’s the matter, Fanny?” said Miss Price.

Nothing, ’Tilda,” replied Miss Squeers, sobbing,

“ There never was any danger,” said Miss Price, “ was there,
Mr. Nickleby? ”

“ None at all,” replied Nicholas. “ Absurd.”

“That’s right,” whispered Miss Price, “say something
kind to her, and she’ll soon come round. Here! Shall John
and I go into the little kitchen and come back presently? ”

“ Not on any account,” rejoined Nicholas, quite alarmed

68 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

at the proposition. “ What on earth should you do that
for? ”

“ Well,” said Miss Price, beckoning him aside, and speak¬
ing with some degree of contempt — “ you are a one to keep
company

“ What do you mean? I am not a one to keep company
at all — here at all events. I can’t make this out.”

“ No, nor I neither,” rejoined Miss Price; “but men are
always fickle, and always were, and always will be; that I
can make out very easily.”

“ Fickle! ” cried Nicholas; “ what do you suppose? You
don’t mean to say that you think - ”

“Oh no, I think nothing at all,” retorted Miss Price,
pettishly. “ Look at her, dressed so beautiful and looking
so wen — and really almost handsome. I am ashamed of
you.”

“ My dear girl, what have I got to do with her dressing
beautifully or looking well? ”

“Come, don’t call me a dear girl,” said Miss Price —
smiling a little though, for she was pretty, and a coquette
too in her small way, and Nicholas .was good-looking, and she
supposed him the property of somebody else, which were all
reasons why she should be gratified to think she had made
an impression on him — “ or Fanny will be saying it’s my
fault. Come, we’re going to have a game at cards.” Pro¬
nouncing these last words aloud, she tripped away and re¬
joined the big Yorkshireman.

“ There are only four of us, ’Tilda,” said Miss Squeers,
looking slyly at Nicholas; “so we had better go partners,
two against two.”

“ What do you say, Mr. Nickleby? ” inquired Miss Price.

“ With all the pleasure in life.” And so saying, quite un¬
conscious of his heinous offence, he amalgamated into one
common heap those portions of a Dotheboys Hall card of

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 69

terms, which represented his own counters, and those allotted
to Miss Price, respectively, making her his partner.

“ Mr. Browdie,” said Miss Squeers hysterically, “ shall we
make a bank against them?”

The Yorkshireman assented — apparently quite over¬
whelmed by the new usher’s impudence — and Miss Squeers
darted a spiteful look at her friend and giggled convulsively.

The deal fell to Nicholas, and the hand prospered.

“ We intend to win everything,” said he.

“ ’Tilda has won something she didn’t expect, I think,
haven’t you, dear? ” said Miss Squeers, maliciously.

“ Only a dozen and eight, love,” replied Miss Price, affect¬
ing to take the question in a literal sense.

“ How dull you are tonight ! ” sneered Miss Squeers.

“No, indeed,” replied Miss Price, “I am in excellent
spirits. I was thinking you seemed out of sorts.”

“ Me ! ” cried Miss Squeers, biting her lips, and trembling
with very jealousy; “ Oh no! ”

“ That’s well,” remarked Miss Price. “ Your hair’s coming
out of curl, dear.”

“Never mind me,” tittered Miss Squeers; “you had
better attend to your partner.”

“ Thank you for reminding her,” said Nicholas. “ So she
had.” The Yorkshireman flattened his nose, once or twice,
with his clenched fist, as if to keep his hand in till he had
an opportunity of exercising it upon the features of some
other gentleman; and Miss Squeers tossed her head with
such indignation that the gust of wind raised by the multi¬
tudinous curls in motion nearly blew the candle out.

“ I never had such luck, really,” exclaimed coquettish Miss
Price, after another hand or two. “ It’s all along of you,
Mr. Nickleby, I think. I should like to have you for a partner
always.”

“ I wish you had.”

70

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ You’ll have a bad wife, though, if you always win at
cards,” said Miss Price.

“ Not if your wish is gratified,” replied Nicholas. “ I am
sure I shall have a good one in that case.”

To see how Miss Squeers tossed her head and the corn
factor flattened his nose while this conversation was carrying
on! It would have been worth a small annuity to have
beheld that; let alone Miss Price’s evident joy at making
them jealous and Nicholas Nickleby’s happy unconscious¬
ness of making anybody uncomfortable.

“ We have all the talking to ourselves, it seems,” said
Nicholas, looking good-humouredly round the table, as he
took up the cards for a fresh deal.

“ You do it so well,” tittered Miss Squeers, “ that it would
be a pity to interrupt, wouldn’t it, Mr. Browdie! He, he,
he! ”

“ No,” said Nicholas, “ we do it in default of having any¬
body else to talk to.”

“ We’ll talk to you, you know, if you’ll say anything,” said
Miss Price.

“ Thank you, ’Tilda, dear,” retorted Miss Squeers, majes¬
tically.

“ Or you can talk to each other, if you don’t choose to talk
to us,” said Miss Price, rallying her dear friend. “John,
why don’t you say something ? ”

“Say summat?” repeated the Yorkshireman.

“ Ay, and not sit there so silent and glum.”

“ Weel, then! ” said the Yorkshireman, striking the table
with his fist, “ what I say’s this: Dang my boans and boddy,
if I stan’ this ony longer. Do ye gang whoam wi’ me, and
do yon loight an’ toight young whipster look sharp out for
a brokken head next time he comes under my hond.”

“ Mercy on us, what’s all this ? ” cried Miss Price, in
affected astonishment.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 71

“ Cum whoam, tell ’e, cum whoam,” replied the Yorkshire-
man, sternly. And as he delivered the reply, Miss Squeers
burst into a shower of tears, arising in part from desperate
vexation and in part from an impotent desire to lacerate
somebody’s countenance with her fair finger nails.

“ Why, and here’s Fanny in tears now! ” exclaimed Miss
Price, as if in fresh amazement. “ What can be the matter ? ”

“ Oh ! you don’t know, miss, of course you don’t know.
Pray don’t trouble yourself to inquire,” said Miss Squeers,
producing that change of countenance which children call
making a face.

“ Well, I’m sure ! ” exclaimed Miss Price.

“ And who cares whether you are sure or not, ma’am ? ”
retorted Miss Squeers, making another face.

“ You needn’t take the trouble to make yourself plainer
than you are, ma’am, however,” rejoined Miss Price, “ be¬
cause that’s quite unnecessary.”

Miss Squeers, in reply, turned very red and thanked God
that she hadn’t got the bold faces of some people. Miss
Price, in rejoinder, congratulated herself upon not being
possessed of the envious feeling of other people, whereupon
Miss Squeers made some general remark touching the danger
of associating with low persons, in which Miss Price entirely
coincided, observing that it was very true indeed and she
had thought so for a long time. “ ’Tilda,” exclaimed Miss
Squeers with dignity, “ I hate you.”

“ Ah ! There’s no love lost between us, I assure you,” said
Miss Price, tying her bonnet strings with a jerk. “ You’ll
cry your eyes out when I’m gone; you know you will.”

“ I scorn your words, minx.”

“ You pay me a great compliment when you say so,”
answered the miller’s daughter, curtseying very low. “ Wish
you a very good night, ma’am, and pleasant dreams attend
your sleep! ”

72 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

With this parting "benediction Miss Price swept from the
room, followed by the huge Yorkshireman, who exchanged
with Nicholas, at parting, that expressive scowl with which
the cut-and-thrust counts, in melodramatic performances,
inform each other they will meet again.

They were no sooner gone than Miss Squeers fulfilled the
prediction of her friend by giving vent to a most copious
burst of tears. Nicholas stood looking on for a few seconds,
rather doubtful what to do, but feeling uncertain whether
the fit would end in his being embraced or scratched, and
considering that either infliction would be equally agreeable,
he walked off very quietly while Miss Squeers was moaning
in her pocket handkerchief.

“ This is one consequence,” thought Nicholas, when he
had groped his way to the dark sleeping room, “ of my cursed
readiness to adapt myself to any society in which chance
carried me. If I had sat mute and motionless, as I might
have done, this would not have happened.”

He listened for a few minutes, but all was quiet.

“ I was glad,” he murmured, “ to grasp at any relief from
the sight of this dreadful place, or the presence of its vile
master. Now I have set these people by the ears and made
two new enemies, where, heaven knows, I needed none. Well,
it is a just punishment for having forgotten, even for an
hour, what is around me here! ”

So saying, he felt his way among the throng of weary-
hearted sleepers, and crept into his poor bed.

CHAPTER VII

N the second morning after the departure of Nicholas

yj for Yorkshire, Kate Nickleby sat in a very faded
chair raised upon a very dusty throne in Miss La Creevy’s
room, giving that lady a sitting for the portrait upon which
she was engaged.

“ And when,” said Miss La Creevy, “ do you expect to see
your uncle again ? ”

“ I scarcely know ; I had expected to have seen him before
now. Soon, I hope, for this state of uncertainty is worse than
anything.”

“ I suppose he has money, hasn’t he ? ”

“ He is very rich, I have heard. X don’t know that he is,
but I believe so.”

“ Ah, you may depend upon it he is, or he wouldn’t be
so surly,” remarked Miss La Creevy. “When a man’s a
bear, he is generally pretty independent.”

“ His manner is rough,” said Kate.

“ Rough ! ” cried Miss La Creevy, “ a porcupine’s a feather
bed to him ! I never met with such a cross-grained old
savage.”

“ It is only his manner, I believe,” observed Kate, timidly;
“ he was disappointed in early life, I think I have heard, or
has had his temper soured by some calamity. I should be
sorry to think ill of him until I knew he deserved it.”

“ Well, that’s very right and proper,” observed the minia¬
ture painter, “ and heaven forbid that I should be the cause
of your doing so! But now, mightn’t he, without feeling it

73

74

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

himself, make you and your mama some nice little allowance
that would keep you both comfortable until you were well
married, and be a little fortune to her afterwards? What
would a hundred a year, for instance, be to him ? ”

“ I don’t know what it would be to him,” said Kate, with
energy, “ but it would be that to me I would rather die than
take.”

“Heyday! ” cried Miss La Creevy.

“ A dependence upon him would embitter my whole life.
I should feel begging a far less degradation.”

“ Well! ” exclaimed Miss La Creevy. “ This of a relation
whom you will not hear an indifferent person speak ill of, my
dear, sounds oddly enough, I confess.”

“ I dare say it does,” replied Kate, speaking more gently,
“ indeed I am sure it must. I — I — only mean that with
the feelings and recollection of better times upon me, I could
not bear to live on anybody’s bounty — not his particularly,
but anybody’s.”

Miss La Creevy looked slyly at her companion, as if she
doubted whether Ralph himself were not the subject of dis¬
like, but seeing that her young friend was distressed, made
no remark.

“ I only ask of him,” continued Kate, whose tears fell while
she spoke, “ that he will move so little out of his way in my
behalf as to enable me by his recommendation — only by
his recommendation — to earn, literally, my bread and remain
with my mother. Whether we shall ever be happy again
depends upon the fortunes of my dear brother; but if my
uncle will get me something to do, and Nicholas only tells
us that he is well and cheerful, I shall be contented.”

As she ceased to speak, there was a rustling behind the
screen which stood between her and the door, and some
person knocked at the wainscot.

“ Come in, whoever it is ! ” cried Miss La Creevy.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 75

The person complied, and, coming forward at once, gave to
view the form and features of Mr. Ralph Nickleby.

1 our servant, ladies,” said Ralph, looking sharply at them
by turns. You were talking so loud that I was unable to
make you hear. I called in, on my way upstairs, more than
half expecting to find you here. Is that my niece’s portrait
ma’am? ”

“ Yes> 11 is> Mr. Nickleby,” said Miss La Creevy, with a
very sprightly air, “ and between you and me and the post,
sir, it will be a very nice portrait, too, though I say it who
am the painter.”

“ Don’t trouble yourself to show it to me, ma’am,” cried
Ralph, moving away, “ I have no eye for likenesses. Is it
nearly finished? ”

“ Why> yes,” replied Miss La Creevy, considering with
the pencil end of her brush in her mouth. 11 Two more
sittings will - ”

Have them at once, ma’am. She’ll have no time to idle
over fooleries after tomorrow. Work, ma’am, work; we
must all work. Have you let your lodgings, ma’am? ”

“ I have not put a bill up yet, sir.”

“Put it up at once, ma’am; they won’t want the rooms
after this week, or if they do, can’t pay for them. Now, my
dear, if you’re ready, we’ll lose no more time.”

With an assumption of kindness which sat worse upon
him even than his usual manner, Mr. Ralph Nickleby mo¬
tioned to the young lady to precede him, and bowing gravely
to Miss La Creevy, closed the door and followed upstairs,
where Mrs. Nickleby received him with many expressions
of regard. Stopping them somewhat abruptly, Ralph waved
his hand with an impatient gesture, and proceeded to the
object of his visit.

“I have found a situation for your daughter, ma’am.”

“ Well,” replied Mrs. Nickleby. “ Now, I will say that

76 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

that is only just what I have expected of you. ‘ Depend upon
it/ I said to Kate only yesterday morning at breakfast,

‘ your uncle has provided, in a most ready manner, for
Nicholas, and he will not leave us until he has done at least
the same for you/ These were my very words, as near as
I remember. Kate, my dear, why don’t you thank
your - ”

11 Let me proceed, ma’am, pray,” said Ralph, interrupting
his sister-in-law in the full torrent of her discourse. “ The
situation that I procured is with — with a milliner and dress¬
maker, in short.”

“A milliner! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby.

“ A milliner and dressmaker, ma’am,” replied Ralph.
“ Dressmakers in London, as I need not remind you, ma’am,
make large fortunes.” Here he proceeded to explain the
great advantages of such work.

Now the first ideas called up in Mrs. Nickleby’s mind by
the words “milliner” and “dressmaker” were connected
with certain wicker baskets lined with black oilskin which she
remembered to have seen carried' to and fro in the streets;
but as Ralph proceeded with his description these disap¬
peared, and were replaced by visions of large houses at the
West End, neat private carriages, and a banker’s book; all
of which images succeeded each other with such rapidity that
he had no sooner finished speaking than she nodded her head
and said “Very true,” with great appearance of satisfac-
tion.

“ What your uncle says is very true, Kate, my dear,” said
Mrs. Nickleby. “ I recollect when your poor papa and I
came to town after we were married that a young lady
brought me home a chip cottage-bonnet with white and
green trimmings and green persian lining, in her own car¬
riage, which drove up to the door full gallop ; at least, I
am not quite certain whether it was her own carriage or
a hackney chariot, but I remember very well that the horse

77

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

dropped down dead as he was turning round and that your
poor papa said he hadn’t had any corn for a fortnight.”

This anecdote was not received with any great demon¬
stration of feeling, inasmuch as Kate hung down her head
while it was relating, and Ralph manifested very intelligible
symptoms of extreme impatience.

“ The lady’s name,” said Ralph, hastily striking in, “ is
Mantalini — Madame Mantalini. I know her. She lives
near Cavendish Square. If your daughter is disposed to
try after the situation, I’ll take her there directly.”

“ Have you nothing to say to your uncle, my love? ”

“ A great deal, but not now. I would rather speak to
him when we are alone; — it will save his time if I thank him
and say what I wish to say to him, as we walk along.”

With these words, Kate hurried away, to hide the traces
of emotion that were stealing down her face and to prepare
herself for the walk, while Mrs. Nickleby amused her brother-
in-law by giving him, with many tears, a detailed account of
the dimensions of a rosewood cabinet piano they had possessed
in their days of affluence, together with a minute description
of eight drawing-room chairs, with turned legs and green
chintz seats to match the curtains, which had cost two pounds
fifteen shillings apiece and had gone at, the sale for a mere
nothing.

These reminiscences were at length cut short by Kate’s
return in her walking dress, when Ralph, who had been fret¬
ting and fuming during the whole time of her absence, lost
no time and used very little ceremony in descending into the
street.

“ Now walk as fast as you can, and you’ll get into the
Step that you’ll have to walk to business with every morning.”
So saying, he led Kate off at a good round pace.

“ I am very much obliged to you, uncle,” said the young
lady, after they had hurried on in silence for some time,

" very.”

78

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I’m glad to hear it; I hope you’ll do your duty.”

“ Uncle,” said Kate, when she judged they must be near
their destination, “ I must ask one question of you. I am
to live at home ? ”

“ At home ! Where’s that ? ”

“ I mean with my mother — the widow.”

“ You will live, to all intents and purposes, here, for here
you will take your meals, and here you will be from morning
till night — occasionally, perhaps, till morning again.”

“ But at night, I mean,” said Kate; “ I cannot leave her,
uncle. I must have some place that I can call a home ; it will
be wherever she is, you know, and may be a very humble
one.”

“ May be! ” said Ralph, walking faster, in the impatience
provoked by the remark, “ must be, you mean. May be a
humble one! Is the girl crazy? ”

“ The word slipped from my lips; I did not mean it
indeed.”

“ I hope not.”

“ But my question, uncle; you have not answered it.”

“ Why, I anticipated something of the kind,” said Ralph ;
“ and — though I object very strongly, mind — have provided
against it. I spoke of you as an out-of-door worker; so you
will go to this home, that may be humble, every night.”

There was comfort in this. Kate poured forth many
thanks for her uncle’s consideration, which Ralph received
as if he had deserved them all. They arrived without any
further conversation at the dressmaker’s door, which dis¬
played a very large plate, with Madame Mantalini’s name
and occupation, and was approached by a handsome flight
of steps.

A liveried footman opened the door and, in reply to
Ralph’s inquiry whether Madame Mantalini was at home,
ushered them through a handsome hall and up a spacious

79

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

staircase into a large show room which comprised two spa¬
cious drawing-rooms. Here was exhibited an immense
variety of superb dresses and materials for dresses; some
arranged on stands, others laid carelessly on sofas, and others
again scattered oyer the carpet, hanging on the cheval glasses,
or mingling, in some other way, with the rich furniture of
various descriptions which was profusely displayed.

They waited a much longer time than was agreeable to
Mr. Ralph Nickleby, who eyed the gaudy frippery about
him with very little concern, and was at length about to
pull the bell when a gentleman suddenly popped his head into
the room and, seeing somebody there, as suddenly popped
it out again.

“ Here. Hollo! ” cried Ralph. “Who’s that?”

At the sound of Ralph’s voice, the head reappeared, and
the mouth, displaying a very long row of very white teeth,
uttered in a mincing tone the words, “ Demmit. What,
Nickleby ! ^h, demmit ! ” Having uttered these ejaculations’
the gentleman advanced and shook hands with Ralph, with
great warmth. He was dressed in a gorgeous morning gown,
with a waistcoat and Turkish trousers of the same pattern,
a pink silk neckerchief, and bright green slippers, and had
a very copious watch chain wound round his body. More¬
over, he had whiskers and a moustache, both dyed black and
gracefully curled.

“ Demmit, you don’t mean to say you want me, do you,
demmit ? ” said this gentleman, smiting Ralph on the shoulder.

u Not yet,” said Ralph, sarcastically.

“Ha! ha! demmit,” cried the gentleman; when, wheeling
round to laugh with greater elegance, he encountered Kate
Nickleby, who was standing near.

“ My niece,” said Ralph.

“ I remember,” said the gentleman, striking his nose with
the knuckle of his forefinger as a chastening for his forget-

80

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

fulness. “ Demmit, I remember what you come for. Step
this way, Nickleby . My dear, will you follow me ? Ha ! ha !
They all follow me, Nickleby; always did, demmit, always.”

Giving loose to the playfulness of his imagination after
this fashion, the gentleman led the way to. a private sitting
room on the second floor, scarcely less elegantly furnished
than the apartment below, where the presence of a silver
coffee pot, an egg shell, and sloppy china for one seemed to
show that he had just breakfasted.

“ Sit down, my dear,” said the gentleman, first staring Miss
Nickleby out of countenance, and then grinning in delight
at the achievement. “ This cursed high room takes one’s
breath away. These infernal sky parlours — I’m afraid I
must move, Nickleby.”

“ I would, by all means,” replied Ralph, looking bitterly
round.

“ What a demd rum fellow you are, Nickleby,” said the
gentleman, “ the demdest, longest-headed, queerest-tempered,
old coiner of gold and silver ever was — demmit.”

Having complimented Ralph to this effect, the gentleman
rang the bell and stared at Miss Nickleby until it was
answered, when he left off to bid the man desire his mistress
to come directly, after which he began staring again, and
left off no more until Madame Mantalini appeared.

The dressmaker was a buxom person, handsomely dressed
and rather good-looking, but much older than the gentleman
in the Turkish trousers, whom she had wedded some six
months before. His name was originally Muntle; but it had
been converted, by an easy transition, into Mantalini, the
lady rightly considering that an English name would be of
serious injury to the business. Her husband’s share in the
business consisted of spending the money and, occasionally,
when that ran short, driving to Mr. Ralph Nickleby to pro¬
cure discount: — at a percentage — for the customers’ bills.

82

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ My life,” said Mr. Mantalini, “ what a demd devil of a
time you have been! ”

“ I didn’t even know Mr. Nickleby was here, my love,”
said Madame Mantalini.

“ Then what a doubly demd infernal rascal that footman
must be, my soul,” remonstrated Mr. Mantalini.

“ My dear,” said madame, “ that is entirely your fault.”

“My fault, my heart’s joy? ”

“ Certainly,” returned the lady; “ what can you expect,
dearest, if you will not correct the man ? ”

“ Correct the man, my soul’s delight ! ”

“ Yes, I am sure he wants speaking to badly enough,” said
Madame, pouting.

“ Then do not vex itself,” said Mr. Mantalini ; “ he shall
be horse-whipped till he cries out demnebly.” With this
promise Mr. Mantalini kissed Madame Mantalini, and after
that performance, Madame Mantalini pulled Mr. Mantalini
playfully by the ear: which done, they descended to business.

“ Now, ma’am,” said Ralph, who had looked on at all this,
with such scorn as few men can express in their looks, “ this
is my niece.”

“ Just so, Mr. Nickleby,” replied Madame Mantalini, sur¬
veying Kate from head to foot and back again. “ Can you
speak French, child ? ”

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Kate, not daring to look up; for
she felt that the eyes of the odious man in the dressing gown
were directed towards her.

“ Like a demd native? ” asked the husband.

Miss Nickleby offered no reply to this inquiry, but turned
her back upon the questioner, as if addressing herself to
make answer to what his wife might demand.

“We keep twenty young women constantly employed in
the establishment,” said madame.

“ Indeed, ma’am,” replied Kate, timidly.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 83

“ Yes, and some of ’em demd handsome, too,” said the
master.

“ Mantalini ! ” exclaimed his wife, in an awful voice.

“ My senses’ idol,” said Mantalini. *

“ Do you wish to break my heart ? ”

“ Not for twenty thousand hemispheres populated with —
with — with little ballet dancers,” replied Mantalini in a
poetical strain.

“ Then you will, if you persevere in that mode of speaking,”
said his wife. “ What can Mr. Nicklebv think when he hears
you?”

“Oh! Nothing, ma’am, nothing,” replied Ralph.
know his amiable nature, and yours.”

“ You will pay no attention, if you please, to what Mr.
Mantalini says,” observed his wife, addressing Miss Nickleby.

“I do not, ma’am,” said Kate, with quiet contempt.

“Mr. Mantalini knows nothing whatever about any of the
young women,” continued madame, looking at her husband,
and speaking to Kate. “ If he has seen any of them, he must
have seen them in the street, going to or returning from their
work, and not here. He was never even in the room. I do
not allow it. What hours of work have you been accustomed
to?”

“ I have never yet been accustomed to work at all, ma’am,”
replied Kate, in a low voice.

“ For which reason she’ll work all the better now.” said
Ralph, putting in a word, lest this confession should injure
the negotiation.

“I hope so,” returned Madame Mantalini; “our hours
are from nine to nine, with extra work when we’re very full
of business, for which I allow payment as overtime.”

Kate bowed her head to intimate that she heard and was
satisfied.

“ Your meals,” continued Madame Mantalini, “ that is,

84 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

dinner and tea, you will take here. I should think your wages
would average from five to seven shillings a week; but I
can’t give you any certain information on that point, until
I see \Hiat you can do.”

Kate bowed her head again.

“ jf you’re ready to come,” said Madame Mantalini, you
had better begin on Monday morning at nine exactly, and
Miss Knag the forewoman shall then have directions to try
you with some easy work at first. Is there anything more,
Mr. Nickleby ? ”

“ Nothing more, ma’am,” replied Ralph, rising.

— ‘ 1 Then I believe that’s all,” said the lady. Having arrived
at this natural conclusion, she looked at the door, as if she
wished to be gone, but hesitated notwithstanding, as though
unwilling to leave Mr. Mantalini the honor of showing them
downstairs. Ralph relieved her of her perplexity by taking
his departure without delay, Madame Mantalini making
many gracious inquiries why he never came to see them, and
Mr. Mantalini cursing the stairs with great volubility as
he followed them down in the hope of inducing Kate to look
round — a hope which was not gratified.

“ There! ” said Ralph, wdien they were in the street, “ now
you’re provided for.” Kate was about to thank him again,
but he stopped her.

“ I had some idea of providing for your mother in a pleas¬
ant part of the country — he was thinking about some poor-
house, — but as you want to be together, I must do some¬
thing else for her. She has a little money? ”

“ A very little.”

“ A little vyill go a long way if it’s used sparingly. She
must see how long she can make it last, living rent free.
, You leave your lodgings on Saturday ? ”

“ You told us to do so, uncle.”

“ Yes, there is a house empty that belongs to me, which I

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

85

can put you into till it is let; and then, if nothing else turns
up, perhaps I shall have another. You must live there.”

“ Is it far from here ? ”

“ Pretty well, in another quarter of the town — at the
East End, but I’ll send my clerk to you at five o’clock on
Saturday to take you there. Good bye. You know your
way? Straight on.”

Miss Nickleby’s reflections as she went home and after¬
wards were of that desponding nature which the occurrences
of the morning had awakened. Her uncle’s was not a manner
likely to dispel any doubts or apprehensions she might have
formed; neither was the glimpse ^he had had of Madame
Mantalini’s establishment by any means encouraging. It
was with many gloomy forebodings and misgivings, there¬
fore, that she looked forward with a heavy heart to the
opening of her new career.

“ I shall be sorry — truly sorry to leave you, my kind
friend,” said Kate to the miniature painter.

“ You shall not shake me off, for all that,” replied Miss La
Creevy, with as much sprightliness as she could assume.

“ I shall see you very often and come and hear how you get
on; and if in all London or all the wide world besides there
is no other heart that takes an interest in your welfare, ,
there will be one little lonely woman that prays for it night
and day.”

With this, the poor soul, who had a heart big enough for
the guardian genius of London, after making a great many
extraordinary faces which would have secured her an ample
fortune, could she have transferred them to ivory or canvas,
sat down in a corner, and had what she termed “ 4 real good
cry.”

But no crying, or talking, or hoping, or fearing could keep
off that dreaded Saturday afternoon, or Newman Noggs
either, who, punctual to his time, limped up to the door,

86

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

exactly as the church clock in the neighbourhood struck
five. Newman waited for the last stcoke and then knocked.

“ From Mr. Ralph Nickleby,” said Newman, announcing
his errand, when he got upstairs.

“ We shall be ready directly/’ said Kate. “ We have not
much to carry, but I fear we must have a coach.”

“ I’ll get one,” replied Newman.

, “ Indeed you shall not trouble yourself,” said Mrs.
Nickleby.

“ I will,” said Newman.

“ I can’t suffer you to think of such a thing,” said Mrs.
Nickleby. #

“ You can’t help it,” said Newman.

“ Not help it! ”

“No; I thought of it as I came along; but didn’t get one,
thinking you mightn’t be ready. I think of a great many
things. Nobody can prevent that.”

“ Oh yes, I understand you, Mr. Noggs,” said Mrs.
Nickleby. “ Our thoughts are free, of course. Everybody’s
thoughts are their own, clearly.”

“ They wouldn’t be if some people had their way,” muttered
Newman.

“ Well, no more they would, Mr. Noggs, and that’s very
true,” rejoined Mrs. Nickleby. “ Some people to be sure
are such — How’s your master ? ”

Newman darted a meaning glance at Kate and replied
with a strong emphasis on the last word of his answer that
Mr. Ralph Nickleby was well and sent his love.

“ I am sure we are very much obliged to him,” observed
Mrs. Nickleby.

“ Very,” said Newman. “ I’ll tell him so.”

They went into the City, turning down by the riverside.
After a long and very slow drive, the streets being crowded
at that hour with vehicles of every kind, they stopped in

87

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

front of a large old dingy house, the door and windows of
which were so bespattered with mud that it looked as if it had
been uninhabited for years.

The door of this deserted mansion Newman opened with a
key which he took out of his hat — in which, by the by,
in consequence of the dilapidated state of his pockets, he
deposited everything, and would most likely have carried
his money if he had had any. The coach being discharged,
he led the way into the interior of the mansion.

Old and gloomy and black it was, and sullen and dark
were the rooms, once so bustling with life and enterprise.
There was a wharf behind, opening on the Thames. An
empty dog kennel, some bones of animals, fragments of iron
hoops, and staves of old casks lay strewn about, but no life
was stirring there. It was a picture of cold, silent decay.

“ This house depresses and chills one,” said Kate. “ and
seems as if some blight had fallen on it. If I were super¬
stitious, I should be almost inclined to believe that some
dreadful crime had been perpetrated within these old walls
and that the place had never prospered since. How frowning
and how dark it looks! ”

“ Lord, my dear,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, “ don’t talk in
that way, or you’ll frighten me to death.”

“ It is only my foolish fancy, mama,” said Kate, forcing
a smile.

“ Well, then, my love, I wish you would keep your foolish
fancy to yourself and not wake up my foolish fancy to keep
it company. Why didn’t you think of all this before?
You are so careless. We might have asked Miss La Creevy
to keep us company or borrowed a dog, or a thousand things
— but it always was the way, and was just the same with your

poor dear father. Unless I thought of everything - ”

This was Mrs. Nickleby ’s usual commencement of a general
lamentation, running through a dozen or so of complicated

88

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

sentences addressed to nobody in particular and into which
she now launched until her breath was exhausted.

Newman appeared not to hear these remarks, but preceded
them to a couple of rooms on the first floor. Some kind of
attempt had been made to render these habitable. In one
were a few chairs, a table, an old hearth rug, and some faded
draperies. A fire was ready laid in the grate. In the other
stood an old tent bedstead and a few scanty articles of bed¬
room furniture.

“ Well, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, trying to be pleased,
“ now isn’t this thoughtful and considerate of your uncle ?
Why, we should not have had anything but the bed we bought
yesterday to lie down upon, if it hadn’t been for his thought¬
fulness! ”

“ Very kind, indeed,” replied Kate, looking round.

Newman Noggs did not say that he had hunted up the
old furniture they saw, from attic and cellar, or that he
had taken in the halfpennyworth of milk for tea that stood
upon a shelf, or filled the rusty kettle on the hob, or collected
the wood chips from the wharf, or begged the coals. But
the notion of Ralph Nickleby having directed it to be done
tickled his fancy so much that he could not refrain from
cracking all his ten fingers in succession, at which perform¬
ance Mrs. Nickleby was rather startled.

“ We need detain you no longer, I think,” said Kate.

“ Is there nothing I can do? ” asked Newman.

“ Nothing, thank you,” rejoined Miss Nickleby.

“ Perhaps, my dear, Mr. Noggs would like to drink our
healths,” said Mrs. Nickleby, fumbling in her bag for some
small coin.

“ I think, mama,” said Kate, hesitating, and remarking
Newman’s averted face, “ you would hurt his feelings if you
offered it.”

Newman Noggs, bowing to the young lady more like a

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

89

gentleman than the miserable wretch he seemed, placed his
hand upon his breast and, pausing for a moment, with the
air of a man who struggles to speak but is uncertain what to
say, quitted the room.

As the jarring echoes of the heavy house door, closing on
its latch, reverberated dismally through the building, Kate
felt half tempted to call him back and beg him to remain a
little while; but she was ashamed to own her fears, and New¬
man Noggs was on his road homewards.

CHAPTER VIII

IT was fortunate for Miss Fanny Squeers that, when her
worthy papa returned home on the night of the small tea
party, he was what is called “ too far gone ” with liquor to
observe the tokens of vexation of spirit in her countenance.
Being, however, of a rather violent and quarrelsome mood in
his cups, it is not impossible that he might have fallen out
with her, either on this or some imaginary topic, if the young
lady had not kept a boy up, on purpose, to bear the first
brunt of the good gentleman’s anger; which, having vented
itself in a variety of kicks and cuffs, subsided sufficiently to
admit of his being persuaded to go to bed. This Mr. Squeers
did, with his boots on and an umbrella uncler his arm.

The hungry servant attended Fanny Squeers in her own
room according to custom, to curl her hair, perform other
little offices for her, and administer as much flattery as she
could get up for the purpose.

“ How lovely your hair do curl tonight, miss ! ” said the
handmaiden. “ I declare if it isn’t a pity and a shame to
brush it out! ”

“ Hold your tongue! ”

“ Well, I couldn’t help saying, miss, if you was to kill me
for it,” said the attendant, “ that I never see nobody look so
vulgar as Miss Price this night.”

Miss Squeers sighed and composed herself to listen.

“ I know it’s wrong in me to say so, miss,” continued the
girl, delighted to see the impression she was making, “ Miss
Price being a friend of your’n, and all; but she do dress

90

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

91

*

herself out so, and go on in such a manner to get noticed,
that — oh, well — if people only saw themselves ! ”

“ What do you mean, Phib ? ” asked Miss Squeers, looking
in her own little glass, where, like most of us, she saw — not
herself but the reflection of some pleasant image in her own
brain. “ How you talk! ”

“ Talk, miss! It’s enough to make a tomcat talk French
grammar only to see how she tosses her head.”

“ She does toss her head,” observed Miss Squeers, with an
air of abstraction.

“ So vain, and so very, very plain,” said the girl.

“ Poor ’Tilda ” ! sighed Miss Squeers, compassionately.

“ And always laying herself out so to get to be admired,”
pursued the servant. “ Oh, dear! It’s positive indelicate.”

“ I can’t allow you to talk in that way, Phib,” said Miss
Squeers. “ ’Tilda’s friends are low people; and if she don’t
know any better, it’s their fault, and not hers.”

“ Well, but you know, miss,” said Phoebe, for which name
u Phib ” was used as a patronising abbreviation, “ if she was
only to take copy by a friend — oh! if she only knew how
wrong she was, and would but set herself right by you, what
a nice young woman she might be in time! ”

“ Phib,” rejoined Miss Squeers, with a stately air, “ it’s
not proper for me to hear these comparisons drawn; they
make ’Tilda look a coarse improper sort of person, and it
seems unfriendly in me to listen to them. I would rather
you dropped the subject, Phib; at the same time, I must
say that if ’Tilda Price would take pattern by somebody —
not me particularly - ”

“ Oh yes; you, miss.”

“ Well, me, Phib, if you will have it so. I must say that,
if she would, she would be all the better for it.”

“ So somebody else thinks, or I am much mistaken,” said
the girl, mysteriously.

92

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ What do you mean? ”

“Never mind, miss,” replied the girl; “I know what I
know; that’s all.”

“ Phib,” said Miss Squeers dramatically, “ I insist upon
your explaining yourself. What is this dark mystery?
Speak.”

“ Why, if you will have it, miss, it’s this,” said the servant
girl. “ Mr. John Browdie thinks as you think; and if he
wasn’t too far gone to do it creditable, he’d be very glad to
be off with Miss Price and on with Miss Squeers.”

“ Gracious heavens ! ” exclaimed Miss Squeers, clasping
her hands with great dignity. “ What is this ? ”

“ Truth, ma’am, and nothing but truth,” replied the artful
Phib.

“ What a situation! ” cried Miss Squeers; “ on the brink
of unconsciously destroying the peace and happiness of my
own ’Tilda. What is the reason that men fall in love with
me, whether I like it or not, and desert their chosen intendeds
for my sake ? ”

“ Because they can’t help it, miss,” replied the girl; “ the
reason’s plain.”

“Never let me hear of it again,” retorted Miss Squeers.
“Never! Do you hear? ’Tilda Price has faults — many
faults — but I wish her well, and above all, I wish her married.
No, Phib. Let her have Mr. Browdie. I may pity him, poor
fellow; but I have a great regard for ’Tilda, and only hope
she may make a better wife than I think she will.”

With this effusion of feeling, Miss Squeers went to bed.

When a knock came at the front door next day and the
miller’s daughter was announced, Miss Squeers betook herself
to the parlour in a Christian frame of spirit, perfectly beau¬
tiful to behold.

“ Well, Fanny,” said the miller’s daughter, “ you see I have
come to see you, although we had some words last night.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

93

“ I pity your bad passions, ’Tilda, but I bear no malice.
I am above it.”

“ Don’t be cross, Fanny. I have come to tell you some¬
thing that I know will please you.”

“ What may that be, ’Tilda?” demanded Miss Squeers,
screwing up her lips, and looking as if nothing in earth, air,
fire, or water, could afford her the slightest gleam of satis¬
faction.

“ This : after we left here last night, John and I had a dread¬
ful quarrel.”

“ That doesn’t please me,” said Miss Squeers, relaxing into
a smile, though.

“ Lor! I wouldn’t think so bad of you as to suppose it
did. That’s not it.”

“ Oh ! ” said Miss Squeers, relapsing into melancholy.
“ Go on.”

“ After a great deal of wrangling and saying we would
never see each other again, we made it up, and this morning
John went and wrote our names down to be put up, for the
first time, next Sunday ; so we shall be married in three weeks,
and I give you notice to get your dress made* to wear as
bridesmaid.

There was mingled gall and honey in this intelligence. The
prospect of the friend’s being married so soon was the gall,
and the certainty of her not entertaining serious designs upon
Nicholas was the honey. Upon the whole, the sweet greatly
preponderated over the bitter; so Miss Squeers said she would
get the dress made and that she hoped ’Tilda might be happy,
though at the same time she didn’t know and would not have
her build too much upon it; for men were strange creatures,
and a great many married women were very miserable, and
wished themselves single again with all their hearts.

“ But come now, Fanny,” said Miss Price, “ I want to have
a word or two with you about young Mr. Nickleby.”

94

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ He is nothing to me,” interrupted Miss Squeers, with
hysterical symptoms. “ I despise him too much! ”

“ Oh, you don’t mean that, I am sure? ” rephed her friend.
“ Confess, Fanny; don’t you like him now? ”

Without returning any direct reply, Miss Squeers all at
once fell into a paroxysm of spiteful tears and exclaimed that
she was a wretched, neglected, miserable castaway.

“ I hate everybody,” said Miss Squeers, “ and I wish that
everybody was dead — that I do.”

“ Dear, dear,” said Miss Price, quite moved by this senti¬
ment. “ You are not serious, I am sure.”

“ Yes, I am,” rejoined Miss Squeers, tying tight knots in
her pocket handkerchief and clenching her teeth. “ And I
wish I was dead too. There! ”

“ Oh! you’ll think very differently in another five minutes,”
said Matilda. “ How much better to take him into favour
again than to hurt yourself by going on in that way. Wouldn’t
it be much nicer now, to have him all to yourself on good
terms, in a company keeping, love making, pleasant sort of
manner? ”

“ I don’t 'know but what it would,” sobbed Miss Squeers.
“ Oh ! ’Tilda, how could you have acted so mean and dis¬
honourable ! I wouldn’t have believed it of you, if anybody
had told me.”

“ Heyday! ” exclaimed Miss Price, giggling. “ One would
suppose I had been murdering somebody at least.”

“Very nigh as bad,” said Miss Squeers passionately.

However, the two girls “ made up ” and planned for ’Tilda’s
wedding. When it was time for Miss Price to return home,
Miss Squeers walked part way with her.

It happened that this was the hour when Nicholas was
accustomed to issue forth for a melancholy walk and to brood,
as he sauntered listlessly through the village, upon his miser¬
able lot. Miss Squeers knew this perfectly well, but had

95

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY*

perhaps forgotten it; for when she caught sight of that young
gentleman advancing towards them, she evinced many
symptoms of surprise and consternation, and assured her
friend that she felt “ fit to drop into the earth.”

“ Shall we turn back, or run into a cottage ? ” asked Miss
Price. “ He don’t see us yet.”

" No, ’Tilda, it is my duty to go through with it, and I
will! ”

As Miss Squeers said this, in the tone of one who has made
a high moral resolution and was, besides, taken with one or
two chokes and catchings of breath, her friend made no
other remark, and they bore straight down upon Nicholas,
who, walking with his eyes bent upon the ground, was
not aware of their approach until they were close upon
him; otherwise he might, perhaps, have taken shelter him¬
self.

“ Good morning,” said Nicholas, bowing and passing by.

“ He is going,” murmured Miss Squeers. “ I shall choke,
’Tilda.”

“ Come back, Mr. Nickleby, do ! ” cried Miss Price, affect¬
ing alarm at her friend’s threat, but really actuated by a
malicious wish to hear what Nicholas would say; “ come
back, Mr. Nickleby! ”

Mr. Nickleby came back and looked as confused as might
be, as he inquired whether the ladies had any commands for
him.

V.

“Don’t stop to talk,” urged Miss Price, hastily; “but
support her on the other side. How do you feel now, dear? ”

“ Better,” sighed Miss Squeers, laying a beaver bonnet of
a reddish brown, with a green veil attached, on Mr. Nickleby’s
shoulder. “ This foolish faintness ! ”

“ Don’t call it foolish, dear,” said Miss Price : her bright
eye dancing with merriment as she saw the perplexity of
Nicholas; “you have no reason to be ashamed of it. It’s

96 "NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

those who are too proud to come round again, without all
this to-do, that ought to be ashamed.”

“ You are resolved to fix it. upon me, I see,” said Nicholas,
smiling, “ although I told you last night it was not my fault.”

“ There — he says it was not his fault, my dear,” remarked
the wicked Miss Price. “ Perhaps you were too jealous, or too
hasty with him? He says it was not his fault. You hear; I
think that’s apology enough.”

“ You will not understand me,” said Nicholas. “ Please
dispense with this jesting, for I have no time, and realty no
inclination, to be the subject or promoter of mirth just now.”

“ What do you mean? ” asked Miss Price, affecting amaze¬
ment.

“ Don’t ask him, ’Tilda; I forgive him.”

“ Dear me,” said Nicholas, as the brown bonnet went down
on his shoulder again, “ this is more serious than I supposed.
Allow me ! Will you have the goodness to hear me speak ? ”

Here he raised up the brown bonnet and, regarding with
astonishment a look of tender reproach from Miss Squeers,
shrunk back a few paces to be out of the reach of the fair
burden, and went on to say:

“ I am very sorry — truly and sincerely sorry — for having
been the cause of any difference among jmu last night. I
reproach myself most bitterly for having been so unfortunate
as to cause the dissension that occurred, although I did so,
I assure you, most unwittingly and heedlessly.”

“Well; that’s not all you have got to say, surety,” ex¬
claimed Miss Price, as Nicholas paused.

“I fear there is something more,” stammered Nicholas,
with a half smile, and looking toward Miss Squeers, “ it is a
most awkward thing to say — but still may I ask if
that lady supposes that I entertain any — in short — does
she think that I am in love with her? ”

“Delightful embarrassment,” thought Miss Squeers, “I

97

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

have brought him to it at last. Answer for me, dear,” she
whispered to her friend.

“ Does she think so? ” rejoined Miss Price; “ of course she
does.”

“ She does ! ” exclaimed Nicholas with such energy of utter¬
ance as might have been, for the moment, mistaken for
rapture.

“ Certainly,” replied Miss Price.

“ If Mr. Nickleby has doubted that, Tilda,” said the blush¬
ing Miss Squeers in soft accents, u he may set his mind at
rest. His sentiments are recipro — : — ”

“ Stop,” cried Nicholas hurriedly; “ please hear me. This
is the grossest and wildest delusion, the completest and most
signal mistake that ever human being laboured under, or
committed. I have scarcely seen the young lady half a dozen
times; but if I had seen her sixty times, or am destined to
see her sixty thousand, it would be, and will be, precisely
the same. I have not one thought, wash, or hope connected
with her, unless it be — and I say this not to hurt her feelings,
but to impress her with the real state of my own unless
it be the one object, dear to my heart as life itself, of being
one day able to turn my back upon this accursed place,
never to set foot in it again, or think of it even think of it
— but with loathing and disgust.”

With this plain and straightforward declaration, Nicholas,
waiting to hear no more, retreated.

But poor Miss Squeers ! Her anger, rage, and vexation —
the rapid succession of bitter and passionate feelings that
whirled through her mind — are not to be described. Re¬
fused ! Refused by a teacher, picked up by advertisement at
an annual salary of five pounds payable at indefinite periods,
and “ found ” in food and lodging like the very boys them¬
selves; and this too in the presence of a little chit of a
miller’s daughter of eighteen, who was going to be married

98

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

in three weeks’ time to a man who had gone down on his
very knees to ask her ! She could have choked in right good
earnest at the thought of being so humbled.

But there was one thing clear in the midst of her mortifica¬
tion, and that was that she hated and detested Nicholas with
all the narrowness of mind and littleness of purpose worthy
a descendant of the house of Squeers. And there was one
comfort, too; and that was that every hour in every day
she could wound his pride and goad him with the infliction
of some slight or insult. With these two reflections upper¬
most in her mind, Miss Squeers made the best of the matter
to her friend, by observing that Mr. Nickleby was such an
odd creature and of such a violent temper that she feared
she should be obliged to give him up, and parted from
her.

“ Let him see,” said the irritated young lady, when she had
regained her own room, “ if I don’t set mother against him a
little more when she comes back! ”

It was scarcely necessary to do this, but Miss Squeers was
as good as her word; and poor Nicholas, in addition to bad
food and dirty lodging, was treated with every special in¬
dignity that malice could suggest.

Nor was this all. There was another and deeper system
of annoyance which made his heart sink and nearly drove
him wild by its injustice and cruelty.

The wretched creature, Smike, since the night Nicholas
had spoken kindly to him in the schoolroom, had followed him
to and fro with an ever-restless desire to serve or help him,
anticipating such little wants as his humble ability could
supply and content only to be near him. He would sit beside
him for hours, looking patiently into his face; and a word
would brighten up his careworn face and call into it a passing
gleam even of happiness. He was an altered being; he had
an object now; and that object was to show his attachment to

99

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

the only person — that person a stranger — who had treated
him, not to say with kindness, but like a human creature.

Upon this poor being, all the spleen and ill humour that
could not be vented on Nicholas were unceasingly bestowed.
Drudgery would have been nothing — Smike was well used
to that. Buffetings inflicted without cause would have been
equally a matter of course; for to them also he had served a
long and weary apprenticeship; but it was no sooner observed
that he had become attached to Nicholas than stripes and
blows, stripes and blows, morning, noon, and night, were his
only portion. Squeers wTas jealous of the influence which his.
man had so soon acquired, and his family hated him, and
Smike paid for both. Nicholas saw it, and ground his teeth
at every repetition of the savage and cowardly act.

He had arranged a few regular lessons for the boys. One
night as he paced up and down the dismal schoolroom, his
swollen heart almost bursting to think that he should have
increased the misery of the wretched being whose peculiar
destitution had awakened his pity, he paused mechanically
in a dark corner where sat the object of his thoughts.

The poor soul was poring hard over a tattered book, with
the traces of recent tears still upon his face; vainly endeavour¬
ing to master some task which a child of nine years old could
have conquered with ease, but which, to the addled brain of
the crushed boy of nineteen, was a sealed and hopeless
mystery. Yet there he sat, patiently conning the page again
and again, stimulated by no boyish ambition, for he was the
common jest and scoff even of the uncouth objects that
congregated about him, but inspired by the one eager desire
to please his solitary friend.

Nicholas laid his hand upon his shoulder.

“ I can’t do it,” said the dejected creature, looking up with
bitter disappointment in every feature. “ No, no.”

“ Do not try,” replied Nicholas.

100 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The boy shook his head, and closing the book with a sigh,
looked vacantly round, and laid his head upon his arm.
He was weeping.

“ Do not, for God’s sake,” said Nicholas, in an agitated
voice; “ I cannot bear to see you.”

“ They are more hard with me than ever,” sobbed the

boy.

“ I know it,” rejoined Nicholas; “ they are.

“ But for you,” said the outcast, “ I should die. They
would kill me; they would; I know they would.”

“ You will do better, poor fellow,” replied Nicholas, shaking
his head mournfully, “ when I am gone.

“ Gone! ” cried the other, looking intently in his face.

“ Softly! ” rejoined Nicholas. “ Yes.”

“ Are you going?” demanded the boy, in an earnest

whisper.

“ I cannot say,” replied Nicholas. “ I was speaking more
to my own thoughts than to you.”

“ Tell me,” said the boy imploringly, “ oh do tell me, will
you go — will you ? ”

“ I shall be driven to that at last! ” said Nicholas. “ The
world is before me, after all.”

“ Tell me,” urged Smike, “ is the world as bad and dismal
as this place?”

“ Heaven forbid,” replied Nicholas, pursuing the train of
his own thoughts; “ its hardest, coarsest toil were happiness
to this.”

“ Should I ever meet you there?” demanded the boy,
speaking with unusual wildness and volubility.

“ Yes,” replied Nicholas, willing to soothe him.

“ No, no! ” said the other, clasping him by the hand.
“ Should I — should I — tell me that again. Say I should
be sure to find you.”

“ You would,” replied Nicholas, with the same humane

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

101

intention, “ and I would help and aid you, and not bring
fresh sorrow on you as I have done here”

The boy caught both the young man’s hands passionately
in his and, hugging them to his breast, uttered a few broken
sounds which were unintelligible. Squeers entered, at the
moment, and he shrunk back into his old corner.

CHAPTER IX

IT was with a heavy heart and many sad forebodings that
Kate Nickleby left the city when its clocks yet wanted a
quarter of an hour of eight and threaded her way alone, amid
the noise and bustle of the streets, towards the West End of
London.

She arrived at Madame Mantalini’s some minutes before
the appointed hour. After walking a few times up and down,
in the hope that some other girl or woman might arrive and
spare her the embarrassment of stating her business to the
servant, she knocked timidly at the door, which, after some
delay, was opened by the footman, who had been putting on
his striped jacket as he came upstairs and was now intent
on fastening his apron.

“ Is Madame Mantalini in ? ” asked Kate.

“ Not often out at this time, miss.”

“ Can I see her? ”

“ Eh ? ” replied the man, holding the door in his hand,
and honouring the inquirer with a stare and a broad grin,
“ Lord, no.”

“ I came by her own appointment ; I am — I am — to be
employed here.”

“ Oh ! you should have rung the worker’s bell,” said the
footman, touching the handle of one in the door post. “ Let
me see, though, I forgot — Miss Nickleby, is it? ”

“ Yes.”

“ You’re to walk upstairs then, please. Madame Mantalini
wants to see you — this way — take care of these things on
the floor.”

Cautioning her in these terms not to trip over a litter of
102

103

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

pastry cook’s trays, lamps, and waiters full of glasses, which
were strewn about the hall, plainly bespeaking a late party
on the previous night, the man led the way to the second story
and ushered Kate into a back room, communicating by
folding doors with the apartment in which she had first
seen the mistress of the establishment.

If you’ll wait here a minute, I’ll tell her presently.”
Having made this promise with much affability, he retired
and left Kate alone.

There was not much to amuse in the room, of which the
most attractive feature was a half-length portrait in oil of
Mr. Mantalini, whom the artist had depicted scratching his
head in an easy manner and thus displaying to advantage a
diamond ring, the gift of Madame Mantalini before her
marriage. There was, however, the sound of voices in con¬
versation in the next room; and as the conversation was
loud and the partition thin, Kate could not help discovering
that they belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Mantalini.

“ If you will be odiously, demnebly, outrigeously jealous,
my soul,” said Mr. Mantalini, “ you will be very miserable
— horrid miserable — demnition miserable.” And then there
was a sound as though Mr. Mantalini were sipping his coffee.

“ I am miserable,” returned Madame Mantalini, evidently
pouting.

“ Then you are an ungrateful, unworthy, demd unthankful
little fairy.”

“ I am not,” returned Madame, with a sob.

“ Ho not put itself out of humour,” said Mr. Mantalini,
breaking an egg. “It is a pretty, bewitching little demd
countenance ; and it should not be out of humour, for it spoils
its loveliness, and makes it cross and gloomy like a frightful,
naughty, demd hobgoblin.”

“ I am not to be brought round in that way always,” re¬
joined Madame, sulkily.

104

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ It shall be brought round in any way it likes best, and
not brought round at all if it likes that better,” retorted
Mr. Mantalini, with his egg spoon in his mouth.

“ It’s very easy to talk.”

“ Not so easy when one is eating a demnition egg, for the
yolk runs down the waistcoat, and yolk of egg does not
match any waistcoat but a yellow waistcoat, demmit.”

“ You were flirting with her during the whole night,” said
Madame Mantalini, apparently desirous to lead the con¬
versation back to the point from which it had strayed.

“ No, no, my life.”

“ You were. I had my eye upon you all the time.”

“ Bless the little, winking, twinking eye ; was it on me all
the time! ” cried Mantalini, in a sort of lazy rapture. “ Oh,
demmit! ”

“ And I say once more, that you ought not to waltz with
anybody but your own wife ; and I will not bear it, Mantalini,
if I take poison first.”

“ She will not take poison and have horrid pains, will she ? ”
said Mantalini, who, by the altered sound of his voice, seemed
to have moved his chair and taken up his position nearer to
his wife. “ She will not take poison, because she had a demd
fine husband who might have married two countesses and a
dowager - ”

“ Two countesses ! You told me one before! ”

“ Two ! Two demd fine women, real countesses and splen¬
did fortunes, demmit.”

“ And why didn’t you? ” asked madame, playfully.

“ Why didn’t I ! Had I not seen, at a morning concert,
the demdest little fascinator in all the world, and while that
little fascinator is my wife, may not all the countesses and
dowagers in England be - ”

Mr. Mantalini did not finish the sentence, but he gave
Madame Mantalini a very loud kiss, which Madame Man-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

105

talini returned, after which there seemed to be some more
kissing mixed up with the progress of the breakfast.

“And what about the cash, my existence’s jewel?” said
Mantalini, when these endearments ceased. “ How much
have we in hand ? ”

“ Very little indeed.”

“ We must have some more ; we must have some discount
out of old Nickleby to carry on the war with, demmit.”

“ You can’t want any more just now,” said Madame, coax-
ingly.

“My life and soul, there is a horse for sale at Scrubbs’s,
which it would be a sin and a crime to lose — going, my
senses’ joy, for nothing.”

“ For nothing, I am glad of that.”

“ For actually nothing; a hundred guineas down will buy
him; mane, and crest, and legs, and tail, all of the demdest
beauty. I will ride him in the park before the very chariots
of the rejected countesses. The demd old dowager will faint
with grief and rage; the other two will say * He is married, he
has made away with himself, it is a demd thing, it is all up !
They will hate each other demnebly, and wish you dead and
buried. Ha! ha! Demmit.”

Madame Mantalini’s prudence, if she had any, was not
proof against these triumphal pictures; after a little jingling
of keys, she observed that she would see what her desk con¬
tained, and, rising for that purpose, opened the folding door
and walked into the room where Kate was seated.

“ Dear me, child ! ” exclaimed Madame Mantalini, recoiling
in surprise. “ How came you here? ”

“Child! ” cried Mantalini, hurrying in. “How came —
eh ! — oh — demmit, how d’ye do ? ”

“ I have ,been waiting here some time, ma’am,” said Kate,
addressing Madame Mantalini. “The servant must have
forgotten to let you know that I was here, I think.

106

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ You really must see to that man,” said madame, turning
to her husband. “ He forgets everything.”

“ I will twist his demd nose off his demd countenance for
leaving such a very pretty creature all alone by herself.”

“ Mantalini, you forget yourself.”

“ I don’t' forget you, my soul, and never shall, and never
can,” said Mantalini, kissing his wife’s hand, and grimacing
aside to Miss Nickleby, who turned away.

Appeased by this compliment, the lady of the business
took some papers from her desk, which she handed over
to Mr. Mantalini, who received them with great delight.
She then requested Kate to follow her, and after several
attempts on the part of Mr. Mantalini to attract the young
lady’s attention, they went away, leaving that gentleman
extended at full length on the sofa, with his heels in the air
and a newspaper in his hand.

Madame Mantalini led the way down a flight of stairs and
through a passage to a large room at the back of the
premises, where were a number of young women employed in
sewing, cutting out, making up, altering, and various other
processes.

On Madame Mantalini calling aloud for Miss Knag, a
short, bustling, overdressed female, full of importance, pre¬
sented herself; and all the young ladies, suspending their
operations for the moment, whispered to each other sundry
criticisms upon the make and texture of Miss Nickleby’s
dress, her complexion, cast of features, and personal appear¬
ance.

“ Oh, Miss Knag,” said Madame Mantalini, “ this is the
young person I spoke about.”

Miss Knag bestowed a reverential smile upon Madame
Mantalini, which she transformed into a gracious one for
Kate, and said that, although it was a great deal of trouble
to have young people who were wholly unused to the business,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 107

still, she was sure the young person would try to do her
best.”

“ I think that, for the present at all events, it will be
better for Miss Nickleby to come into the show room with
you, and try things on for people,” said Madame Mantalini.
“ She will not be able for the present to be of much use
in any other way ; and her appearance will - ”

“Suit very well with mine, Madame Mantalini,” inter¬
rupted Miss Knag. “ So it will; and to be sure I might have
known that you would not be long in finding that out; for
you have so much taste in all those matters. Miss Nickleby
and I are quite a pair, Madame Mantalini, only I am a little
darker than Miss Nickleby, and — hem — I think my foot
may be a little smaller. Miss Nickleby, I am sure, will not
be offended at my saying that, when she hears that our family
always have been celebrated for small feet ever since — hem
— ever since our family had any feet at all, indeed, I think.”

“ You’ll take care that Miss Nickleby understands her hours
and so forth,” said Madame Mantalini; “and so I’ll lea^e
her with you. You’ll not forget my directions, Miss Knag? ”

Miss Knag, of course, replied that to forget anything
Madame Mantalini had directed was a moral impossibility;
and that lady, dispensing a general good morning among
her assistants, sailed away.

“ Charming creature, isn’t she, Miss Nickleby? ” said Miss
Knag rubbing her hands together.

“ I have seen very little of her. I hardly know yet.”

“Have you seen Mr. Mantalini?”

“ Yes, I have seen him twice.”

“ Isn’t he a charming creature ? ”

“ Indeed, he does not strike me as being so, by any means.”

“No, my dear! ” cried Miss Knag, elevating her hands.
“ Why, goodness, gracious mercy, where’s your taste? Such
a fine, tall, full-whiskered, dashing, gentlemanly man, with

108 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

such teeth and hair, and — hem — well now, you do astonish
me.”

“ I dare say I am very foolish,” replied Kate, laying aside
her bonnet ; “ but as my opinion is of very little importance
to him or any one else, I do not regret having formed it, and
shall be slow to change it, I think.”

“ He is a very fine man, don’t you think so? ” asked one
of the young ladies.

“ Indeed he may be, for anything I could say to the con¬
trary,” replied Kate.

“ And drives very beautiful horses, doesn’t he ? ” inquired
another.

“ I dare say he may, but I never saw them,” answered Kate.

“ Never saw them! ” interposed Miss Knag. “ Oh, well!
There it is at once, you know; how can you possibly pro¬
nounce an opinion about a gentleman — hem — if you don’t
see him as he turns out altogether ? ”

Kate, who was anxious to change the subject, made no
further remark, and left Miss Knag in possession of the field.

After a short silence, during which most of the young people
made a closer inspection of Kate’s appearance and com¬
pared notes respecting it, one of them offered to help her
off with her shawl, and the offer being accepted, inquired
whether she did not find black very uncomfortable to wear.

“ I do indeed,” replied Kate, with a bitter sigh. She could
not quite restrain her tears.

“ I am very sorry to have wounded you by my thoughtless
speech,” said her companion. “ I did not think of it. You
are in mourning for some near relation? ”

“ For my father.”

“ For what relation, Miss Simmonds ? ” asked Miss Knag
in an audible voice.

“ Her father,” replied the other softly.

“ Her father, eh? ” said Miss Knag, without the slightest

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 109

depression of her voice. “Ah! A long illness, Miss Sim-
monds ? ”

“Hush,” replied the girl; “I don’t know.”

“ Our misfortune was very sudden,” said Kate, turning
away, “ or I might perhaps, at a time like this, be enabled
to support it better.”

There had existed not a little desire in the room, according
to invariable custom when any new “ young person ” came,
to know who Kate was and wffiat she was, and all about her ;
but although it might have been very naturally increased
by her appearance and emotion, the knowledge that it pained
her to be questioned was sufficient to repress even this curi¬
osity; and Miss Knag, finding it hopeless to attempt ex¬
tracting any further particulars just then, reluctantly com¬
manded silence, and bade the work proceed.

In silence, then, the tasks were plied until half -past one,
when a baked leg of mutton, with potatoes to correspond,
were served in the kitchen. The meal over, and the young
ladies having enjoyed the additional relaxation of washing
their hands, the work began again, and was again performed
in silence until the noise of carriages rattling through the
streets and of loud double knocks at doors, gave token that
the day’s work of the more fortunate members of society
was proceeding in its turn.

One of these double knocks at Madame Mantalini’s door
announced the equipage of some great lady — or rather rich
one, for there is occasionally a distinction between riches
and greatness — who had come with her daughter to ap¬
prove of some court dresses which had been a long time
preparing, and upon whom Kate was deputed to wait, ac¬
companied by Miss Knag, and officered of course by Madame
Mantalini.

Kate’s part in the pageant was humble enough, her duties
being limited to holding articles of costume until Miss Knag

110

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

was ready to try them on, and now and then tying a string,
or fastening a hook and eye. She might not unreasonably
have supposed herself beneath the reach of any arrogance
or bad humour; but it happened that two customers, a lady
and daughter, were both out of temper that day and the poor
girl came in for her share of their revilings. She was awk¬
ward — her hands were cold — dirty — coarse — she could
do nothing right; they wondered how Madame Mantalini
could have such people about her, requested that they might
see some other young woman the next time they came, and
so forth.

So common an occurrence would be hardly deserving of
mention, but for its effect. Kate shed many bitter tears
when these people were gone, and felt, for the first time,
humbled by her occupation. She had, it is true, quailed
at the prospect of drudgery and hard service; but she had
felt no degradation in working for her bread, until she found
herself exposed to insolence and pride. Philosophy would
have taught her that the degradation was on the side of
those who had sunk so low as to display such passions
habitually and without cause; but she was too young for
consolation, and her honest feeling was hurt. May not the
complaint that common people are above their station often
take its rise in the fact of uncommon people being below
theirs ?

In such scenes and occupations the time wore on until
nine o’clock, when Kate, jaded and dispirited with the oc¬
currences of the day, hastened from the confinement of the
workroom to join her mother at the street corner and walk
home, the more sadly from having to disguise her real feel¬
ings and feign to participate in all the sanguine visions of
her companion.

“Bless my soul, Kate,” said Mrs. Nickleby; “I’ve been
thinking all day what a delightful thing it would be for

Ill

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Madame Mantalini to take you into partnership — such a
likely thing, too, you know! Why, your poor dear papa’s
cousin’s sister-in-law — a Miss Browndock — was taken into
partnership by a lady that kept a school at Hammersmith and
made her fortune in no time at all. I forget, by the by,
whether that Miss Browndock was the same lady that got
the ten thousand pounds prize in the lottery, but I think she
was; indeed, now I come to think of it, I am sure she was.
‘ Mantalini and Nickleby,’ how well it would sound ! — and if
Nicholas had any good fortune, you might have Doctor
Nickleby, the headmaster of Westminster School, living in
the same street.”

“Dear Nicholas! ” cried Kate, taking from her handbag
her brother’s letter from Dotheboys Hall. “ In all our mis¬
fortunes, how happy it makes me, mama, to hear he is doing
well, and to find him writ^ig in such good spirits ! It con¬
soles me for all we may undergo, to think that he is comfort¬
able and happy.”

CHAPTER X

THE cold, feeble dawn of a January morning was steal-'
ing in at the windows of the common sleeping room,
when Nicholas, raising himself on his arm, looked among the
prostrate forms which on every side surrounded him, as
though in search of some particular object.

It needed a quick eye to detect, from among the huddled
mass of sleepers, the form of any given individual. As they
lay closely packed together, covered, for warmth s sake, with
their patched and ragged clothes, little could be distinguished
but the sharp outlines of pale faces.

Nicholas looked upon the sleepers with the air of one who
missed something his eye was accustomed to meet and had
expected to rest upon. He was still occupied in this search
and had half risen from his bed in the eagerness of his quest,
when the voice of Squeers was heard, calling from the bottom
of the stairs.

“ Now, then,” cried that gentleman, “are you going to

sleep all day, up there - ”

“You lazy hounds! ” added Mrs. Squeers, finishing the
sentence and producing, at the same time, a sharp sound,
like that which is occasioned by the lacing of corsets.

“ We shall be down directly, sir,” replied Nicholas.

“Down directly! ” said Squeers. “Ah! you had better
be down directly, or I’ll be down upon some of you in less.
Where’s that Smike ? ”

Nicholas looked hurriedly round again, but made no
answer.

“Smike! ” shouted Squeers.

112

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

113

“ Do you want your head broke in a fresh place, Smike? ”
demanded his amiable lady in the same key.

Still there was no reply, and still Nicholas stared about
him, as did the greater part of the boys, who were by this
time roused.

“ Confound his impudence ! ” muttered Squeers, rapping
the stair rail impatiently with his cane. “ Nickleby! ”

“ Well, sir.”

“ Send that obstinate scoundrel down ; don’t you hear me
calling ? ”

“ He is not here, sir,” replied Nicholas.

“ Don’t tell me a lie,” retorted the schoolmaster. “ He is.”

“ He is not,” retorted Nicholas angrily; “ don’t tell me one.”

“ We shall soon see that,” said Mr. Squeers, rushing up¬
stairs. “ I’ll find him, I warrant you.”

With this assurance, Mr. Squeers bounced into the dormi¬
tory and, swinging his cane in the air ready for a blow,
darted into the corner where the lean body of the drudge was
usually stretched at night. The cane descended harmlessly
upon the ground. There was nobody there.

“ What does this mean ? ” said Squeers, turning round with
a very pale face. “ Where have you hid him? ”

“ I have seen nothing of him since last night,” replied
Nicholas.

“ Come,” said Squeers, evidently frightened, though he
endeavoured to look otherwise, “ you won’t save him this
way. Where is he ? ”

“ At the bottom of the nearest pond, for aught I know,”
rejoined Nicholas in a low voice, and fixing his eyes full on
the master’s face.

“ What do you mean by that ? ” retorted Squeers in great
perturbation. Without waiting for a reply, he inquired of
the boys whether any one among them knew anything of
their missing schoolmate.

114

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

There was a general hum of anxious denial, in the midst of
which, one shrill voice was heard to say (as, indeed, every¬
body thought) :

“ Please, sir, I think Smike’s run away, sir.”

“ Ha ! ” cried Squeers, turning sharp round ; “ who said
that?”

“ Tompkins, please, sir,” rejoined a chorus of voices. Mr.
Squeers made a plunge into the crowd and at one dive caught
a very little boy, habited still in his night gear, and the per¬
plexed expression of whose countenance, as he was brought
forward, seemed to intimate that he was uncertain whether he
was about to be punished or rewarded for the suggestion.
He was not long in doubt.

“You think he has run away, do you, sir?” demanded
Squeers.

“ Yes, please, sir,” replied the little boy.

“ And what, sir,” said Squeers, catching the little boy
suddenly by the arms and whiskiilg up his drapery in a most
dexterous manner, “ what reason have you to suppose that
any boy .would want to run away from this establishment?
Eh, sir?”

The child raised a dismal cry by way of answer, and Mr.
Squeers, throwing himself into the most favourable attitude
for exercising his strength, beat him until the little urchin
in his writhings actually rolled out of his hands, when he
mercifully allowed him to roll away as he best could.

“ There,” said Squeers, “ now if any other boy thinks Smike
has run away, I should be glad to have a talk with him.”

There was, of course, a profound silence, during which
Nicholas showed his disgust as plainly as looks can show it.

“ Well, Nickleby,” said Squeers, eyeing him maliciously.
“ You think he has run away, I suppose? ”

“ I think it extremely likely,” replied Nicholas, in a quiet
manner.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 115

“ Oh, you do, do you ? ” sneered Squeers. “ Maybe you
know he has.”

“ I know nothing of the kind.”

“ He didn't tell you he was going, I suppose, did he?”
sneered Squeers.

“ He did n°L I am very glad he did not, for it would then
have been my duty to have warned you in time.”

“ Which no doubt you would have been devilish sorry to
do,” said Squeers in a taunting fashion.

“ I should indeed. You interpret my feelings with great
accuracy.”

Mrs. Squeers had listened to this conversation, from the
bottom of the stairs ; but now, losing all patience, she hastily
assumed her night jacket, and made her way to the scene of
action.

“ What’s all this here to-do ? ” said the lady, as the boys
fell off right and left, to save her the trouble of clearing a
passage with her brawny arms. “ What on earth are you
talking to him for, Squeery ? ”

“ Why, my dear,” said Squeers, “the fact is, that Smike
is not to be found.”

“ Well, I know that,” said the lady, “ and where’s the won¬
der? If you get a parcel of proud-stomached teachers that
set the young dogs a’re-belling, what else can you look for?
Now, young man, you just have the kindness to take your¬
self off to the schoolroom, and take the boys off with you,
and don’t you stir out of there till you have leave given
you, or you and I may fall out in a way that’ll spoil your
beauty, handsome as you think yourself, and so I tell
you.”

“ Indeed ! ” said Nicholas.

“Yes; and indeed and indeed again, Mister Jackanapes,”
said the excited lady; “ and I wouldn’t keep such as you in the
house another hour if I had my way.”

116 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Nor would you if I had mine,” replied Nicholas. “ Now,
boys! ”

“ Ah ! Now boys,” said Mrs. Squeers, mimicking, as nearly
as she could, the voice and manner of the usher. “ Follow
your leader, boys, and take pattern by Smike if you dare.
See what he’ll get for himself, when he is brought back; and,
mind! I tell you that you shall have as bad, and twice as
bad, if you so much as open your mouths about him.”

“ If I catch him,” said Squeers, “ I’ll only stop short of
flaying him alive. I give you notice, boys.”

“ If you catch him,” retorted Mrs. Squeers, contemptu¬
ously — “ you are sure to; you can’t help it, if you go the
right way to work. Come! Away with you! ”

With these words Mrs. Squeers dismissed the boys, and
after a little light skirmishing with those in the rear, who
were pressing forward to get out of the way, but were de¬
tained for a few moments by the throng in front, succeeded
in clearing the room, when she confronted her spouse alone.

“ He is off,” said Mrs. Squeers. “ The cow house and
stable are locked up, so he can’t be there; and he’s not down¬
stairs anywhere, for the girl has looked there, tie must
have gone York way, and by a public road, too.”

“ Why must he? ” inquired Squeers.

“ Stupid! ” said Mrs. Squeers angrily. “He hadn’t any
money, had he ? ”

“ Never had a penny of his own in his whole life that I
know of.”

“ To be sure,” rejoined Mrs. Squeers, “ and he didn’t take
anything to eat with him; that I’ll answer for. Ha! ha!
ha! ”

“Ha! ha! ha! ” laughed Squeers.

“ Then, of course,” said Mrs. Squeers, “ he must beg his
way, and he could do that nowhere but on the public road.”

“ That’s true,” exclaimed Squeers, clapping his hands.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

117

“True! Yes; but you would never have thought of it,
for all that, if I hadn’t said so,” replied his wife. “ Now if
you take the chaise and go one road, and I borrow Swallow’s
chaise and go the other, what with keeping our eyes open
and asking questions one or other of us is pretty certain to
lay hold of him.”

The worthy lady’s plan was adopted and put in execution
without a moment’s delay. After a very hasty breakfast
and the prosecution of some inquiries in the village, the result
of which seemed to show that he was on the right track,
Squeers started forth in the pony chaise, intent upon discovery
and vengeance. Shortly afterwards, Mrs. Squeers, arrayed
in the white topcoat and tied up in various shawls and hand¬
kerchiefs, issued forth in another chaise and another direc¬
tion, taking with her a good-sized bludgeon, several odd
pieces of strong cord, and a stout labouring man — all pro¬
vided and carried upon the expedition with the sole object
of assisting in the capture, and (once caught) insuring the
safe custody of the unfortunate Smike.

Nicholas remained behind, in a tumult of feeling, sensible
that whatever might be the upshot of the boy’s flight, nothing
but painful and deplorable consequences were likely to ensue
from it. Death from want and exposure to the weather was
the best that could be expected from the protracted wander-
irig of so poor and helpless a creature, alone and unfriended,
through a country of which he was wholly ignorant. There
was little, perhaps, to choose between this fate and a return
to the tender mercies of the Yorkshire school; but the un¬
happy being had established a hold upon his sympathy and
compassion which made his heart ache at the prospect of
the suffering he was destined to undergo. He lingered on
in restless anxiety, picturing a thousand possibilities, until
the evening of the next day, when Squeers returned, alone,
and unsuccessful.

118

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“No news of the scamp! ” said the schoolmaster, who had
evidently been “ stretching his legs ” a great many times
during the journey. “ I’ll have consolation for this out of
somebody, Nickleby, if Mrs. Squeers don’t hunt him down;
so I give you warning.”

“ It is not in my power to console you, sir,” said Nicholas.
“ It is nothing to me.”

“ Isn’t it? ” said Squeers in a threatening manner. “ We
shall see! ”

“ We shall,” rejoined Nicholas.

“ Here’s the pony run right off his legs, and me obliged to
come home with a hack cob that’ll cost fifteen shillings beside
other expenses,” said Squeers ; “ who’s to pay for that, do you
hear ? ”

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders and remained silent.

“ I’ll have it out of somebody, I tell you,” said Squeers, his
usual harsh crafty manner changed to open bullying. “ None
of your whining vapourings here, Mr. Puppy, but be off to
your kennel, for it’s past your bed time ! Come ! Get out ! ”

Nicholas bit his lip and knit his hands involuntarily, for
his finger ends tingled to avenge the insult ; but remembering
that the man was drunk and that it could come to little but
a noisy brawl, he contented himself with darting a contemptu¬
ous look at the tyrant, and walked, as majestically as he
could, upstairs : not a little nettled, however, to observe that
Miss Squeers and Master Squeers, and the servant girl were
enjoying the scene from a snug corner; the two former, in¬
dulging in many edifying remarks about the presumption
of poor upstarts, which occasioned a vast deal of laughter,
in which even the miserable servant girl joined.

Another day came, and Nicholas was scarcely awake when
he heard the wheels of a chaise approaching the house. It
stopped. The voice of Mrs. Squeers was heard, and in
exultation ordering a glass of spirits for somebody, which

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

119

was in itself a sufficient sign that something extraordinary
had happened. Nicholas hardly dared to look out of the
window; but he did so, and the very first object that met his
eyes was the wretched Smike: so bedabbled with mud and
rain, so haggard and worn and wild, that, but for his garments
being such as no scarecrow was ever seen to wear, he might
have been doubtful, even then, of his identity.

“ Lift him out,” said Squeers, after he had literally feasted
his eyes, in silence, upon the culprit. “ Bring him in; bring
him in! ”

“ Take care,” cried Mrs. Squeers, as her husband proffered
his assistance. “We tied his legs and made ’em fast to the
chaise, to prevent his giving us the slip again.”

With hands trembling with delight, Squeers unloosened
the cord ; and Smike, to all appearance more dead than alive,
was brought into the house and securely locked up in a
cellar until such time as Mr. Squeers should deem it expedient
to operate upon him in presence of the assembled school.

The news that Smike had been caught and brought back
in triumph, ran like wildfire through the hungry community,
and expectation was on tiptoe all the morning. On tiptoe it
was destined to remain, however, until afternoon; when
Squeers, having refreshed himself with his dinner, and
further strengthened himself by an extra libation or so,
made his appearance (accompanied by his amiable partner)
with a countenance of portentous import and a fearful
whip, strong, supple, wax-ended, and new — in short, pur¬
chased that morning expressly for the occasion.

“ Is every boy here ? ” asked Squeers, in a tremendous voice.

Every boy was there, but every boy was afraid to speak;
so Squeers glared along the lines to assure himself ; and every
eye dropped, and every head cowered down as he did so.

“ Each boy keep his place,” said Squeers, administering his
favourite blow to the desk and regarding with gloomy satis-

120

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

faction the universal start which it never failed to occasion.
“ Nickleby ! to your desk, sir.”

It was noticed by more than one small observer that there
was a very curious and unusual expression in the usher’s face,
but he took his seat without opening his lips in reply.
Squeers, casting a triumphant glance at his assistant and a
look of most comprehensive despotism on the boys, left the
room, and shortly afterwards returned, dragging Smike by
the collar — or rather by that fragment of his jacket which
was nearest the place where his collar would have been, had
he boasted such a decoration.

In any other place the appearance of the wretched, jaded,
spiritless object would have occasioned a murmur of com¬
passion and remonstrance. It had some effect, even there;
for the lookers-on moved uneasily in their seats; and a few
of the boldest ventured to steal looks at each other, expressive
of indignation and pity.

They were lost on Squeers, however, whose gaze was
fastened on the luckless Smike, as he inquired, according to
custom in such cases, whether he had anything to say for
himself.

“ Nothing, I suppose?” said Squeers, with a diabolical
grin.

Smike glanced round, and his eye rested, for an instant, on
Nicholas, as if he had expected him to intercede; but his
look was riveted on his desk.

“ Have you anything to say ? ” demanded Squeers again,
giving his right arm two or three flourishes to try its power and
suppleness. “ Stand a little out of the way, Mrs. Squeers,
my dear; I’ve hardly got room enough.”

“ Spare me, sir ! ” cried Smike.

“ Oh! that’s all, is it? ” said Squeers. “ Yes, I’ll flog you
within an inch of your life, and spare you that.”

“ Ha, ha, ha,” laughed Mrs. Squeers, “ that’s a good ’un! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

121

“ I was driven to do it,” said Smike faintly, and casting
another imploring look about him.

“ Driven to do it, were you?” said Squeers. “Oh! it
wasn’t your fault ; it was mine, I suppose — eh ? ”

“ A nasty, ungrateful, pig-headed, brutish, obstinate, sneak¬
ing dog,” exclaimed Mrs. Squeers, taking Smike’s head under
her arm, and administering a cuff at every epithet, “ what
does he mean by that ? ”

“ Stand aside, my dear,” replied Squeers. “ We’ll try
and find out.”

Mrs. Squeers, being out of breath with her exertions, com¬
plied. Squeers caught the boy firmly in his grip. One des¬
perate cut had fallen on his body. He wras wincing from
the lash and uttering a scream of pain. The lash was raised
again, and again about to fall — when Nicholas Nickleby,
suddenly starting up, cried “ Stop ! ” in a voice that make the
rafters ring.

“ Who cried stop ? ” said Squeers, turning savagely round.

“ I,” said Nicholas, stepping forward. “ This must not
go on.”

“ Must not go on! ” cried Squeers, almost in a shriek.

“No! ” thundered Nicholas.

Aghast and stupefied by the boldness of the interference,
Squeers released his hold of Smike, and falling back a pace
or two, gazed upon Nicholas with looks that were positively
frightful.

“I say must not,” repeated Nicholas, nothing daunted;
“ shall not. I will prevent it.”

Squeers continued to gaze upon him, with his eyes starting
out of his head; but astonishment had actually, for the
moment, bereft him of speech.

“ You have disregarded all my quiet interference in the
miserable lad’s behalf,” said Nicholas, “ you have returned no
answer to the letter in which I begged forgiveness for him, and

122

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

offered to be responsible that he would remain quietly here.
Don’t blame me for this public interference. You have
brought it upon yourself; not I.”

“Sit down, beggar!” screamed Squeers, almost beside
himself with rage, and seizing Smike as he spoke.

“ Wretch,” rejoined Nicholas, fiercely, “ touch him at your
peril! I will not stand by and see it done. My blood is up,
and I have the strength of ten such men as you. Look to
yourself, for by heaven, I will not spare you, if you drive
me on! ”

“ Stand back,” cried Squeers, brandishing his whip.

“ I have a long series of insults to avenge,” said Nicholas,
flushed with passion ; “ and my indignation is aggravated by
the cruelties on helpless infancy in this foul den. Have a
care; for if you do raise the devil within me, the consequences
shall fall heavily upon your own head! ”

He had scarcely spoken when Squeers, in a violent outbreak
of wrath and with a cry like the howl of a wild beast, spat
upon him and struck him a blow across the face with his
whip, which raised up a bar of livid flesh.

Smarting with the agony of the blow and concentrating
into that one moment all his feelings of rage, scorn, and in¬
dignation, Nicholas sprang upon him, snatched the whip from
his hand, and pinning him by the throat, beat the ruffian
till he roared for mercy.

The boys — with the -exception of Master Squeers, who,
coming to his father’s assistance, harassed the enemy in the
rear — moved not, hand or foot; but Mrs. Squeers, with
many shrieks for aid, hung on to the tail of her partner’s
coat and endeavoured to drag him from his infuriated ad¬
versary, while Miss Squeers, who had been looking through
the keyhole in expectation of a very different scene, darted
in at the very beginning of the attack and, after throwing
a lot of inkstands at the teacher’s head, beat Nicholas to

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

123

her heart’s content, animating herself at every blow with
the recollection of his having refused her proffered love, and
thus imparting additional strength to an arm which (as she
took after her mother in this respect) was, at no time, one
of the weakest.

Nicholas felt the blows no more than if they had been
dealt with feathers, he was so angry; but becoming tired of
the noise and uproar, and feeling that his arm grew weak
besides, he threw all his remaining strength into half a dozen
finishing cuts, and flung Squeers from him, with all the
force he could muster. The violence of his fall knocked Mrs.
Squeers over a bench; and Squeers, striking his head against
it in his descent, lay at his full length on the ground, stunned
and motionless.

Having brought affairs to this happy termination, and
ascertained, to his thorough satisfaction, that Squeers was
only stunned, and not dead, Nicholas left his family to restore
him, and went out to consider what course he had better
adopt. He looked anxiously round for Smike as he left the
room, but he was nowhere to be seen.

He packed up a few clothes in a small leathern valise,
marched boldly out by the front door, and struck into the
road which led to Greta Bridge.

His circumstances did not appear in a very encouraging
light. He had only four shillings and a few odd pence in
his pocket, and was more than two hundred and fifty miles
from London.

Lifting up his eyes, as he arrived at the conclusion that
there was no remedy for this unfortunate state of things,
he beheld a horseman coming towards him, whom, on nearer
approach, he discovered, to his infinite chagrin, to be no
other than Mr. John Browdie, who was urging his animal
forward by means of a thick ash stick, which seemed to
have been recently cut from some stout sapling.

124

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I am in no mood for more noise and riot,” thought Nicho¬
las, “ and yet, do what I will, I shall have a quarrel with this
honest blockhead and perhaps a blow or two from yonder
staff.”

In truth there appeared some reason that such a result
would follow from the encounter, for John Browdie no sooner
saw Nicholas advancing than he reined in his horse by the
footpath and waited until such time as he should come up,
looking meanwhile very sternly between the horse’s ears at
Nicholas, as he came on at his leisure.

“ Servant, young genelman,” said John.

“ Yours,” said Nicholas.

“Weel; we ha’ met at last,” observed John, making the
stirrup ring under a smart touch of the ash stick.

“Yes,” replied Nicholas, hesitating. “Come!” he said
frankly, after a moment’s pause, “ we parted on no very good
terms the last time we met; it was my fault, I believe; but
I had no intention of offending you and no idea that I was
doing so. I was very sorry for it afterwards. Will you shake
hands ? ”

“ Shake hands! ” cried the good-humoured Yorkshireman;
“ ah ! that I weel” ; at the same time he bent down from the
saddle and gave Nicholas’s fist a huge wrench; “ but wa’at
be the matther wi’ thy feace, mun? it be all broken loike.”

“It is a cut,” said -Nicholas, “ — a blow; but I returned
it to the giver and with good interest, too.”

“ Noa, did’ee though? Welldeane! I loike un’ for thot.”

“The fact is,” said Nicholas, not very well knowing how
to make the avowal, “ the fact is, that I have been ill-treated.”

“ Noa ! ” interposed John Browdie, in a tone of compassion;
for he was a giant in strength and stature, and Nicholas, very
likely, in his eyes, seemed a mere dwarf; “ dean’t say thot.”

“ Yes, I have, by that man Squeers, and I have beaten him
soundly, and am leaving this place in consequence.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

125

“ What! ” cried John Browdie, with such an ecstatic shout
that the horse quite shied at it. “ Beatten the^school-
measther! Ho! ho! ho! Beatten the schoolmeasther !
Whoever heard the like of that now! Give us thee hand
again, youngster. Beatten the schoolmeasther! Dang it,
I loove thee for’t.”

With these expressions of delight, John Browdie laughed
and laughed again — so loud that the echoes far and wide
sent back nothing but jovial peals of merriment — and shook
Nicholas by the hand meanwhile, no less heartily. When his
mirth had subsided, he inquired what Nicholas meant to do;
on his informing him, to go straight to London, he shook his
head doubtfully, and inquired if he knew how much the
coaches charged, to carry passengers so far.

“No, I do not,” said Nicholas; “but it is of no great
consequence to me, for I intend walking.”

“ Gang aw^a’ to Lunnun afoot! ” cried John in amazement.

“ Every step of the way,” replied Nicholas. “ I should
be many steps further on by this time, and so good-by ! ”

“ Nay, noo,” replied the honest countryman, reining in his
impatient horse, “ stan’ still, tellee. Hoo much cash hast
thee gotten? ”

“ Not much, but I can make it enough. Where there’s a
will there’s a way, you know.”

John Browdie made no verbal answer to this remark, but
putting his hand in his pocket pulled out an old purse of
soiled leather and insisted that Nicholas should borrow from
him whatever he required for his present necessities.

“ Dean’t be afeared, mun,” he said, “ tak’ eneaf to carry
thee whoam. Thee’lt pay me yan day, a’ warrant.”

Nicholas could not be induced to borrow more than a
sovereign, with which loan Mr. Browdie had to content him¬
self.

“ Take that bit o’ timber to help thee on wi’, mun,” he

126

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

added, pressing his stick on Nicholas, and giving his hand
another squeeze; “ keep a good heart and bless thee. Beat-
ten the schoolmeasther ! ’Cod, it’s the best thing a’ve heerd
this twonty year! ”

So saying, and indulging in another series of loud laughs
for the purpose of avoiding the thanks which Nicholas poured
forth, John Browdie set spurs to his horse and went off at a
smart canter, looking back from time to time, as Nicholas
stood gazing after him and waving his hand cheerily, as if
to encourage him on his way. Nicholas watched the horse
and rider until they disappeared over a distant hill and then
set forward on his journey.

He did not travel far that afternoon, for by this time it was
nearly dark, and there had been a heavy fall of snow which
not only made the way toilsome, but the track uncertain and
difficult to find after dark. He stayed that night at a cottage
where beds were let at a cheap rate and, getting up early the
next morning, made his way before night to the next town.
Passing through in search 4of some cheap resting place, he
found an empty barn near the roadside in a warm corner of
which he stretched his weary limbs and soon fell asleep.

When he awoke next morning and tried to recollect his
dreams, which had been all connected with his recent sojourn
at Dotheboys Hall, he sat up, rubbed his eyes, and stared
at some motionless object which seemed to be stationed a
few yards in front of him.

“ Strange ! ” cried Nicholas ; “ can this be some lingering
creation of the visions that have scarcely left me ! It cannot
be real — and yet I — I am awake ! Smike ! ”

The form moved, rose, advanced, and dropped upon its
knees at his feet. It was Smike indeed.

“ Why do you kneel to me ? ” said Nicholas, hastily raising
him.

“ To go with you — anywhere — everywhere — to the

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

127

world’s end — to the churchyard grave,” replied Smike,
clinging to his hand. “ Let me, oh do let me. You are my
home — my kind friend — take me with you, pray.”

“ I am a friend who can do little for you,” said Nicholas,
kindly. “ How came you here ? ”

He had followed him, it seemed; had never lost sight of
him all the way, had watched while he slept, and when he
halted for refreshment; and had feared to appear before, lest
he should be sent back. He had not intended to appear now,
but Nicholas had awakened more suddenly than he looked
for, and he had not had time to conceal himself.

“ Poor fellow! ” said Nicholas, “ your hard fate denies you
any friend but one, and he is nearly as poor and helpless as
yourself.”

“ May I — may I go with you ? ” asked Smike timidly. “ I
will be your faithful hard-working servant, I will, indeed.
I want no clothes,” added the poor creature, drawing his rags
together; “ these will do very well. I only want to be near
you.”

“ And you shall,” cried Nicholas. “ And the world shall
deal by you as it does by me, till one or both of us shall quit
it for a better. Come! ”

With these words, he strapped his burden on his shoulders
and, taking his stick in one hand, extended the other to his
delighted charge; and so they passed out of the old barn,
together.

CHAPTER XI

A HARD-FEATURED, square-faced man, elderly and
shabby, stopped to unlock the door of the front attic,
into which he walked with the air of legal owner.

This person wore a wig of short, coarse red hair, which he
took off with his hat and hung upon a nail. Having adopted
in its place a dirty cotton nightcap and groped about in the
dark till he found a remnant of candle, he knocked at the
partition which divided the two garrets and inquired, in a
loud voice, whether Mr. Noggs had a light.

The sounds that came back were stifled by the lath and
plaster, but they were in the voice of Newman, and conveyed
a reply in the affirmative.

“A nasty night, Mr. Noggs! ” said the man stepping in
to light his candle.

“ Does it rain ? ”

“ Does it! I am wet through.”

“ It doesn’t take much to wet you and me through, Mr.
Crowl,” said Newman, laying his hand upon the lapel of
his threadbare coat.

“ Well, and that makes it the more vexatious,” said Mr.
Crowl.

Uttering a low querulous growl, the speaker raked the
scanty fire nearly out of the grate and inquired where he
kept his coals.

Newman Noggs pointed to the bottom of a cupboard, and
Mr. Crowl, seizing the shovel, threw on half the stock, which
Noggs very deliberately took off again withbut saying a
word.

128

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 129

“ You have not turned saving at this time of day, I hope? ”
said Crowl.

Newman briefly said that he was going downstairs to
supper.

“ Think of that now! ” said Crowl. “ If I didn’t — think¬
ing that you were certain not to go, because you said you
wouldn’t — make up my mind to spend the evening with
you! ”

“ I was obliged to go. They would have me.”

“ Well, but what’s to become of me? It’s all your fault.
I’ll tell you what — I’ll sit by your fire till you come back
again.”

Newman cast g, despairing glance at his small store of
fuel, but, not having the courage to say no — a word which
in all his life he never had said at the right time, either to
himself or any one else — gave way to the proposed ar¬
rangement, and Mr. Crowl immediately went about making
himself comfortable with Newman Noggs’s means.

The dinner downstairs was a great success, and Newman
had a pleasant time. They were just about to drink some
hot punch, late in the evening, when a hasty knock was heard
at the room door.

“ Don’t be alarmed; it’s only me,” cried Crowl, looking in,,
in his nightcap — “ it’s Mr. Noggs that’s wanted.”

“Me!” cried Newman, much astonished.

“Why, it is a queer hour, isn’t it?” replied Crowl, who
was not best pleased at the prospect of losing his fire; “ and
they are queer-looking people, too, all covered with rain and
mud. Shall I tell them to go away? ”

“ No,” said Newman, rising. “ People? How many? ”

“ Two.”

“ Want me ? By name ? ”

“ By name, Mr. Newman Noggs, as pat as need be.”

Newman reflected for a few seconds, and then hurried

130

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

away, muttering that he would be back directly. He was
as good as his word; for in an exceedingly short time he
burst into the room and seizing, without a word of apology
or explanation, a lighted candle and tumbler of hot punch
from the table, darted away like a madman.

“ What the deuce is the matter with him ? ” exclaimed
Crowl, throwing the door open. “Hark! Is there any noise
above ? ”

Not hearing any unusual sounds, he went to his own room
and retired for the night.

Newman Noggs scrambled in violent haste upstairs with
the steaming beverage, which he had so unceremoniously
snatched from the table. He bore his prize straight to his
own back garret, where, footsore and nearly shoeless, wet,
dirty, jaded, and disfigured with every mark of fatiguing
travel, sat Nicholas and Smike, at once the cause and partner
of his toil, both perfectly worn out by their unwonted and
protracted exertion.

Newman’s first act was to compel Nicholas, with gentle
force, to swallow half of the punch at a breath, nearly boiling
as it was; and his next, to pour the remainder down the throat
of Smike, who, never having tasted anything stronger than
medicine in his whole life, -exhibited various manifestations
of surprise and delight.

“ You are wet through,” said Newman, passing his hand
hastily over the coat which Nicholas had thrown off ; “ and
I — I — haven’t even a change,” he added, with a wistful
glance at the shabby clothes he wore himself.

“ I have dry clothes, or at least such as will serve my turn
well, in my bundle,” replied Nicholas. “ If you look so
distressed to see me, you will add to the pain I feel already,
at being compelled, for one night, to cast myself upon your
slender means for aid and shelter.”

Mr. Noggs brightened up again, and went about making

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 131

such arrangements as were in his power for the comfort of
his visitors.

These were simple enough; but slight as they were, they
were not made without much bustling and running about.
As Nicholas had husbanded his scanty stock of money so
well that it was not quite expended, a supper of bread and
cheese, with some cold beef from the cook’s shop, was soon
placed upon the table; and these viands being flanked by a
pot of porter, there was no ground for apprehension on the
score of hunger or thirst. Such preparations as Newman
had in his power to make for the accommodation of his guests
during the night occupied no very great time in completing ;
and as he had insisted that Nicholas should change his clothes
and that Smike should invest himself in his solitary coat
(which no entreaties could dissuade him from stripping off
for the purpose), the travellers partook of their frugal fare
with more satisfaction than one of them at least had derived
from many a better meal.

They then drew near the fire, which Newman Noggs had
made up as well as he could, after the inroads of Crowl upon
the fuel; and Nicholas now pressed him with earnest questions
concerning his mother and sister.

“ Well; both well.”

“ They are living -in the city still? ”

“ They are.”

“ And my sister. Is she still engaged in the business which
she wrote to tell me she thought she should like so much? ”

Newman opened his eyes rather wider than usual, but
merely replied by a gasp, which was interpreted as meaning
yes or no. The pantomime consisted of a nod also; so
Nicholas took the answer as a favourable one.

“ Now listen to me,” said Nicholas, laying his hand on
Newman’s shoulder. ,f Before I would make an effort to
see them, I deemed it expedient to come to you, lest, by

132

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

gratifying my own selfish desire, I should inflict an injury
upon them which I can never repair. What has my uncle
heard from Yorkshire? ”

Newman opened and shut his mouth several times, as
though he were trying to speak, but could make nothing of
it, and finally fixed his eyes on Nicholas with a grim and
ghastly stare.

“ What has he heard? ” urged Nicholas, colouring. “ You
see that I am prepared to hear the very worst that malice
can have suggested. Why should you conceal it from me?
I must know it sooner or later ; and what purpose can be
gained by trifling with the matter for a few minutes, when
half the time would put me in possession of all that has oc¬
curred? Tell me at once.”

“ Tomorrow morning; hear it tomorrow.”

“ What purpose would that answer ? ”

“ You would sleep the better.”

“ I should sleep the worse. Sleep ! I cannot hope to
close my eyes all night, unless you tell me everything.”

“ And if I should tell you everything,” said Newman, hesi¬
tating.

“ Why, then you may rouse my indignation or wound my
pride, but you will not break my rest; for if the scene were
acted over again, I could take no other part than I have
taken. I shall never regret doing as I have done — never,
if I starve or beg in consequence. What is a little poverty
or suffering to the disgrace of the basest and most inhuman
cowardice ! I tell you, if I had stood by tamely and passively,
I should have hated myself and merited the contempt of
every man in existence. The black-hearted scoundrel! ”

With this allusion to the absent Mr. Squeers, Nicholas re¬
pressed his wrath and, relating to Newman what had passed
at Dotheboys Hall, entreated him to speak out without more
pressing. Thus adjured, Mr. Noggs took from an old trunk

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

133

a sheet of paper which appeared to have been scrawled over
in great haste.

“ The day before yesterday your uncle received this letter.
I took a hasty copy of it, while he was out.”

Newman Noggs accordingly read as follows:

Dotheboys Hall

Thursday Morning.
Sir,

My pa requests me to write to you, the doctors consider¬
ing it doubtful whether he will ever recuvver the use of his
legs which prevents his holding a pen.

We are in a state of mind beyond everything, and my pa
is one mask of brooses both blue and green; likewise two
benches are steepled in his Goar. We were kimpelled to
have him carried down into the kitchen where he now lays.
You will judge from this that he has been brought very low.

When your nevew that you recommended for a teacher
had done this to my pa, and jumped upon his body with
his feet, and also langwedge which I will not pollewt my
pen with describing, he assaulted my ma with dreadful vio¬
lence, dashed her to the earth, and drove her back comb
several inches into her head. A very little more and it
must have entered her skull. I We have a medical certifi-
ket that if it had, the tortershell would have affected her
brain.

Me and my brother were then the victims of his ieury
since which we have suffered very much which leads us to
the arrowing belief that we have received some injury in
our insides, especially as no marks of violence are visible ex¬
ternally. I am screaming out loud all the time I write and
so is my brother, which takes off my attention rather and
I hope will excuse mistakes.

The monster having sasiated his thirst for blood ran away,
taking with him a boy of desperate caracter that he had ex¬
cited to rebellyon, and a garnet ring belonging to my ma,
and not having been apprehended by the constables is sup¬
posed to have been took up by some stage-coach. My pa
begs that if he comes to you the ring may be returned, and
that you will let the thief and assassin go, as if we prosecuted
him he would not be transported, and if he is let go he is

134

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

sure to be hung before long which will save us trouble and

be much more satisfactory. Hoping to hear from you

when convenient

I remain

Yours and cetrer

Fanny Squeers.

P. S. I pity his ignorance and despise him.

A profound silence succeeded to the reading of this choice
epistle, during which Newman Noggs, as he folded it up, gazed
with a kind of grotesque pity at the boy of desperate character
therein referred to ; who, having no more distinct perception
of the matter in hand than that he had been the unfortunate
cause of heaping trouble and falsehood upon Nicholas, sat
mute and dispirited, with a most woebegone and heart-
stricken look.

“ Mr. Noggs,” said Nicholas, after a few moments’ reflec¬
tion, “ I must go out at once.”

“ Go out! ”

“ Yes, to Golden Square. Nobody who knows me would
believe this story of the ring ; but it may suit the purpose, or
gratify the hatred, of Mr. Ralph Nickleby to attach credence
to it. It is due — not to- him, but to myself — that I should
state the truth; and moreover, I have a word or two to ex¬
change with him which will not keep cool.”

“ They must,” said Newman.

“ They must not, indeed,” rejoined Nicholas firmly, as he
prepared to leave the house.

“ Hear me speak,” said Newman, planting himself before
his impetuous young friend. “ He is not there. He is away
from town. He will not be back for three days, and I know
that letter will not be answered before he returns.”

“ Are you sure of this? ” asked Nicholas, pacing the narrow
room with rapid strides.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 135

“ Quite. He had hardly read it when he was called away.
Its contents are known to nobody but himself and us.”

“ Are you certain? Not even to my mother or sister? If
I thought that they — I will go there — I must see them.
Which is the way ? Where is it ? ”

“ Now be advised by me; make no effort to see even them
till he comes home. I know the man. When he returns go
straight to him and speak as boldly as you like. He knows the
real truth as well as you or I. Trust him for that.”

“ You mean well to me and should know him better than
I can,” replied Nicholas, after some consideration. “ Well,
let it be so.”

Newman, who had stood with his back planted against the
door, ready to oppose any egress frorp the apartment, by
force if necessary, resumed his seat with much satisfaction;
and as the water in the kettle was by this time boiling, made
a glassful of spirits and water for Nicholas and a cracked
mugfull for the accommodation of himself and Smike, of
which the two partook in great harmony, while Nicholas,
leaning his head upon his hand, remained in melancholy
meditation.

The first care of Nicholas next morning was to look for
some room without trenching upon the hospitality of New¬
man Noggs, who would have slept upon the stairs with pleas¬
ure, so that his young friend was accommodated. There was
a small back room vacant on the second floor which Nicholas
rented, and hired a few common articles of furniture from a
neighbouring broker. The more he thought about his
troubles the worse they seemed, so he resolved to banish them
from his mind by dint of hard walking. Taking up his hat
and leaving Smike to arrange and rearrange the room with
as much delight as if it had been the costliest palace, he went
out dn the streets and mingled with the crowd which thronged
them. But the unhappy state of his own affairs was the one

136

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

idea which occupied the brain of Nicholas, walk as fast as
he would; and when he tried to dislodge it by speculating on
the prospects of the people who surrounded him, he caught
himself, in a few seconds, contrasting their condition with his
own, and gliding almost imperceptibly back into his old train
of thought again.

Occupied in these reflections, as he was making his way
along one of the great public thoroughfares of London, he
chanced to raise his eyes to a blue board, whereon was in¬
scribed in characters of gold :

GENERAL AGENCY OFFICE
FOR PLACES AND SITUATIONS OF ALL KINDS
INQUIRE WITHIN

In the window hung a long, tempting array of written
placards announcing vacant places of all grades. Nicholas
halted before this temple of promise and ran his eye over the
openings in life which were so profusely displayed. Then he
went inside. He was not able to get a position from this
place, but he had, what ‘was to him, an experience of a life¬
time. Just as it was his turn to go up to the desk, there came
into the office an applicant in whose favour he immediately
retired and whose appearance both surprised and interested
him. This was a young lady who could be scarcely eighteen,
of very slight and delicate figure, but exquisitely shaped,
who, walking timidly up to the desk, made an inquiry in a
very low voice about a situation as governess or companion.
She raised her veil for an instant and disclosed a countenance
of most uncommon beauty, though shaded by a cloud of
sadness. She made the usual acknowledgment and glided
away. If her clothing had been worn by one who imparted
fewer graces of her own, it might have looked poor and
shabby, but she simply looked quietly dressed. Her attend-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

137

ant was a red-faced, round-eyed, slovenly girl, who, from a
certain roughness about the bare arms under her shawl, was
clearly a servant. This girl followed her mistress, and before
Nicholas had recovered from the first effects of his surprise
and admiration, the young lady was gone. It is not a matter
of such improbability as some sober people may think, that
he would have followed them out, had he not been restrained
by what passed between the fat woman, who managed the
place, and her bookkeeper.

“ When is she coming again, Tom? ” asked the fat woman.

“ Tomorrow - morning,” replied Tom, mending his pen.
Then he said to Nicholas, in a very coarse disagreeable
manner ;

“ I say, what a good-looking gal that was, wasn’t she ? ”

“ What girl ? ” demanded Nicholas, sternly.

“ Oh yes. I know what gal, eh? ” whispered Tom, shutting
one eye, and cocking his chin in the air. “ You didn’t see
her, you didn’t — I say, don’t you wish you was me, when
she comes tomorrow morning ? ”

Nicholas looked at the ugly clerk as if he had a mind to
reward his admiration of the young lady by beating the
ledger about his ears, but he refrained, and strode haughtily
out of the office, thinking no longer of his own misfortunes,
but wondering what could be those of the beautiful girl he
had seen. He made up his mind that he would be on hand
at the employment office in the morning when she arrived
and that he would try to find out who she was. Never before
had any girl impressed him as being so sweet and lovely, yet
oppressed with sorrow and trouble.

Smike had scraped a meal together from the remains of
last night’s supper and was anxiously awaiting his return.
The occurrences of the morning had not improved Nicholas s
appetite, and by him the dinner remained untasted. He
was sitting in a thoughtful attitude with the plate which

138

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

poor Smike had filled with the choicest morsels untouched,
when Newman Noggs looked into the room.

“ Come back? ” asked Newman.

“ Yes, tired to death, and what is worse, might have re¬
mained at home, for all the good I have done, as far as find¬
ing work goes.”

“ Couldn’t expect to do much in one morning.”

“ May be so, but I did expect, and am disappointed,”
saying which, he gave Newman an account of his proceedings.

“ If I could do anything,” said Nicholas, “ anything how¬
ever slight, until Ralph Nickleby returns, and I have eased
my mind by confronting him, I should feel happier. I should
think it no disgrace to work at anything. Lying indolently
here, like a half-tamed sullen beast, distracts me.”

He visited the employment office the next day but could
not find any work. Neither did he see anything more of
the beautiful girl who had so impressed him the day before.
In spite of all his troubles, her image remained in his mind.

CHAPTER XII

WELL, now, indeed Madame Mantalini,” said Miss
Knag, as Kate was taking her weary way homewards
on the first night, “ That Miss Nickleby is a very creditable
young person — a very creditable young person indeed —
hem — upon my word, Madame Mantalini, it does very ex¬
traordinary credit even to your discrimination, that you
should have found such a very excellent, very well behaved,
very — hem — very unassuming young woman to assist in
the fitting on. I have seen some young women when they had
the opportunity of displaying before their betters behave in
such a — oh, dear — well — but you’re always right, Madame
Mantalini, always ; and as I very often tell the young ladies,
how you do contrive to be always right when so many people
are so often wrong is to me a mystery indeed.”

“ Beyond putting a very excellent client out of humour,
Miss Nickleby has not done anything very remarkable today
— that I am aware of, at least,” said Madame Mantalini, in
reply.

“ Oh, dear! but you must allow a great deal for inexperi¬
ence, you know.”

“ And youth ? ”

“ Oh, I say nothing about that, Madame Mantalini, be¬
cause if youth were any excuse, you wouldn’t have - ”

“ Quite so good a forewoman as I have, I suppose.”

“ Well, I never did know anybody like you, Madame Man¬
talini, and that’s a fact, for you know what one’s going to
say, before it has time to rise to one’s lips. Oh, very good!
Ha, ha, ha! ”

139

140

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ For myself,” observed Madame Mantalini, glancing with
affected carelessness at her assistant and laughing heartily in
her sleeve, “ I consider Miss Nickleby the most awkward girl
I ever saw in my life.”

“ Poor dear thing, it’s not her fault. If it was, we might
hope to cure it ; but as it’s her misfortune, Madame Mantalini,
why really, you know, as the man said about the blind horse,
we ought to respect it.”

“ Her uncle told me she had been considered pretty,” re¬
marked Madame Mantalini. “ I think her one of the most
ordinary girls I ever met with.”

“Ordinary! ” cried Miss Knag with a countenance beam¬
ing delight; “ and awkward! Well, all I can say is, Madame
Mantalini, that I quite love the poor girl; and that if she
was twice as indifferent-looking and twice as awkward as
she is, I should be only so much the more her friend, and
that’s the truth of it.”

In fact, Miss Knag had conceived an incipient affection
for Kate Nickleby, after witnessing her failure that morning,
and this short conversation with her superior increased the
favourable prepossession to a most surprising extent.

At this high point, Miss Knag’s friendship remained for
three whole days, much to the wonderment of Madame Man-
talini’s young ladies, who had never beheld such constancy
in that quarter before ; but on the fourth it received a check
no less violent than sudden, which thus occurred.

It happened that an old lord of great family, who was going
to marry a young lady of no family in particular, came with
the young lady’s sister, to witness the ceremony of trying on
two nuptial bonnets which had been ordered the day before.
Madame Mantalini announced the fact in a shrill treble
through the speaking pipe, which communicated with the
work room. Miss Knag darted hastily upstairs, with a bon¬
net in each hand, and presented herself in the show room.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

141

The bonnets were no sooner fairly on the young lady than
Miss Knag and Madame Mantalini fell into convulsions of
admiration.

“ A most elegant appearance,” said Madame Mantalini.

“ I never saw anything so exquisite in all my life,” said
Miss Knag.

Now the old lord, who was a very old lord, said nothing,
but mumbled and chuckled in a state of great delight, no
less with the nuptial bonnets and their wearers than with his
own address in getting such a fine woman for his wife; and
the young lady, who was a very lively young lady, seeing
the old lord in this rapturous condition, chased the old lord
behind a cheval glass and then and there kissed him, while
Madame Mantalini and the other young lady looked discreetly
another way.

But Miss Knag, who was tinged with curiosity, stepped
accidentally behind the glass and encountered the lively
young lady’s eye just at the very moment when she kissed the
old lord; upon which the young lady, in a pouting manner,
murmured “ an old thing,” and “ great impertinence,” and
finished by darting a look of displeasure at Miss Knag and
smiling contemptuously.

“ Madame Mantalini,” said the young lady.

“ Ma’am,” said Madame Mantalini.

“ Pray have up that pretty young creature we saw yester¬
day.”

“ Oh yes, do,” said the sister.

“ Of all things in the world, Madame Mantalini,” said the
lord’s intended, throwing herself languidly on a sofa, “ I hate
being waited upon by frights or elderly persons. Let me
' always see that young creature, I beg, whenever I come.”

“ By all means,” said the old lord; “the lovely young
creature, by all means.”

“Everybody is talking about her,” said the young lady,

142

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

in the same careless manner ; “ and my lord, being a great
admirer of beauty, must positively see her.”

“ She is universally admired,” replied Madame. Mantalini.
“Miss Knag, send up Miss Nickleby. You needn’t re¬
turn.”

“ I beg your pardon, Madame Mantalini, what did you
say last ? ” asked Miss Knag, trembling.

“ You needn’t return,” repeated the superior, sharply. Miss
Knag vanished without another word, and in all reasonable
time was replaced by Kate, who took off the new bonnets
and put on the old ones, blushing very much to find that the
old lord and the two young ladies were staring her out of
countenance all the time.

“ Why, how you colour, child! ” said the lord’s chosen bride.

“ She is not quite so accustomed to her business as she will
be in a week or two,” interposed Madame Mantalini with a
gracious smile.

“I am afraid you have been giving her some of your
wicked looks, my lord,” said the intended.

“ No, no, no,” replied the old lord, “ no, no, I’m going to
be married and lead a new life. Ha, ha, ha ! a new life, a new
life ! ha, ha, ha ! ”

It was a satisfactory thing to hear that the old gentleman
was going to lead a newT life, for it was pretty evident that
his old one would not last him much longer. The mere
exertion of protracted chuckling reduced him to a fearful
ebb of coughing and gasping ; it was some minutes before he
could find breath to remark that the girl was too pretty for a
milliner.

“ I hope you don’t think good looks a disqualification
for the business, my lord,” said Madame Mantalini, sim¬
pering.

“ Not by any means,” replied the old lord, “ or you would
have left it long ago.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

143

“ You naughty creature,” said the lively lady, poking the
peer with her parasol; “ I won’t have you talk so. How dare
you ? ”

This playful inquiry was accompanied with another poke,
and another, and then the old lord caught the parasol, and
wouldn’t give it up again, which induced the other lady to
come to the rescue, and some very pretty sportiveness en¬
sued.

“ You will see that those little alterations are made,
Madame Mantalini,” said the lady. “ No, you bad man, you
positively shall go first; I wouldn’t leave you behind with
that pretty girl, not for half a second. I know you too well.
Jane, my dear, let him go first, and we shall be quite sure of
him.”

The old lord, evidently much flattered by this suspicion,
bestowed a grotesque leer upon Kate as ]je passed and,
receiving another tap with the parasol for his wickedness,
tottered downstairs to the door, where his sprightly body
was hoisted into the carriage by two stout footmen.

“ Foh! ” said Madame Mantalini, “ how he ever gets into
a carriage without thinking of a hearse, I can’t think. There,
take the things away, my dear; take them away.”

Kate, who had remained during the whole scene with her
eyes modestly fixed upon the ground, was only too happy to
avail herself of the permission to retire and hasten joyfully
downstairs to Miss Knag’s dominion.

The circumstances of the little kingdom had greatly
changed, however, during the short period of her absence.
In place of Miss Knag being stationed in her accustomed seat,
preserving all the dignity and greatness of Madame Man-
talini’s representative, she was reposing on a large box, bathed
in tears, while three or four of the young ladies in close at¬
tendance upon her, together with the presence of hartshorn,
vinegar, and other restoratives, would have borne ample

144 ‘ NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

testimony, even without the derangement of the headdress
and front row of curls, to her having fainted desperately.

“ Bless me!/” said Kate, stepping hastily forward, “ What
is the matter ? ”

This inquiry produced in Miss Knag violent symptoms
of a relapse and several young ladies, darting angry looks
at Kate, applied more vinegar and hartshorn, and said it
was “ a shame.”

“ What is a shame?” demanded Kate. “What is the
matter? What has happened? Tell me.”

“ Matter! ” cried Miss Knag, coming all at once bolt up¬
right, to the great consternation of the assembled maidens.
“ Matter ! Fie upon you, you nasty creature !

“ Gracious! ” cried Kate, almost paralysed by the violence
with which the adjective had been jerked out from between
Miss Knag’s clo.sed teeth; “ have I offended you? ”

“ You offended me! ” retorted Miss Knag, “You! a chit,
a child, an upstart, nobody ! Oh, indeed ! Ha, ha ! ”

Now it was evident, as Miss Knag laughed, that something
struck her as being exceedingly funny; and as the young ladies
took their tone from Miss Knag — she being the chief, — they
all got up a laugh without a moment’s delay and nodded their
heads a little, and smiled sarcastically to each other, as much
as to say how very good that was!

“ Here she is,” continued Miss Knag, getting off the box and
introducing Kate with much ceremony and many low curtseys
to the delighted throng; “ here she is — everybody is talking
about her — the belle, ladies — the beauty, the — oh, you
bold-faced thing! ”

At this crisis, Miss Knag was unable to repress a virtuous
shudder, which immediately communicated itself to all the
young ladies, after which Miss Knag laughed, and after that,
cried.

“ For fifteen years,” exclaimed Miss Knag, sobbing in a

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

145

most affecting manner, “ for fifteen years have I been the
credit and ornament of this room and the one upstairs.
Thank God,” said Miss Knag, stamping first her right foot
and then her left with remarkable energy, “ I have never in
all that time, till now, been exposed to the arts, the vile arts,
of a creature who disgraces us with all her proceedings and
makes proper people blush for themselves. But I feel it,
I do feel it, although I am disgusted.”

Miss Knag here relapsed into softness, and the young ladies,
renewing their attentions, murmured that she ought to be
superior to such things and that for their part they despised
them and considered them beneath their notice; in witness
whereof, they called out more emphatically than before that
it was a shame and that they felt so angry they hardly knew
what to do with themselves.

“ Have I lived to this day to be called a fright! ” cried
Miss Knag, suddenly becoming convulsive.

“ Oh no, no,” replied the chorus, “pray don’t say so;
don’t now! ”

“Have I deserved to be called an elderly person?”
screamed Miss Knag.

“ Don’t think of such things, dear,” answered the chorus.

“ I hate her,” cried Miss Knag; “ I detest and hate her.
Never let her speak to me again; never let anybody who is
a friend of mine speak to her; a hussy, an impudent, artful
hussy! ” Having denounced the object of her wrath in
these terms, Miss Knag screamed once, hiccuped thrice,
gurgled in her throat several times, slumbered, shivered,
woke, came to, composed her headdress, and declared herself
quite well again.

Poor Kate had regarded these proceedings at first in per¬
fect bewilderment. She had then turned red and pale by
turns, and once or twice tried to speak; but as the true
motives of this altered behaviour developed themselves, she

146

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

retired a few paces and looked calmly on without deigning
a reply. Nevertheless, although she walked proudly to her
seat and turned her back upon the group of little satellites
who had clustered round their ruling planet in the remotest
corner of the room, she gave way, in secret, to some such
bitter tears as would have gladdened Miss Knag’s inmost
soul if she could have seen them fall. The rest of the week
was so miserable for Kate that she hailed the arrival of
Saturday night as a prisoner would a few delicious hours of
intermission from slow and wearing torture.

When she joined her mother at the street corner as usual,
she was surprised to find her in conversation with Ralph
Nickleby, who said:

“ Ah, my dear, we were at that moment talking about you.”

“ Indeed,” replied Kate, listlessly.

“ I was coming to call for you, but your mother and I have
been talking over family affairs, and the time has slipped
away rapidly.”

“ Well, now, hasn’t it? ” interposed Mrs. Nickleby. “ Upon
my word I couldn’t have believed it possible that — Kate,
my dear, you’re to dine with your uncle at half-past six
tomorrow. Your black silk will be quite dress enough, my
dear, with that pretty little scarf and a plain band in your
hair, — dear, dear, if I only had those amethysts of mine —
you recollect them, Kate, my love — how they used to
sparkle, you know, but your papa, your poor dear papa — ah!
there never was anything so cruelly sacrificed as those jewels
were, never! ” Overpowered by this agonizing thought, Mrs.
Nickleby shook her head, in a melancholy manner, and applied
her handkerchief to her eyes.

“ I don’t want them, mama, indeed,” said Kate. “ Forget
that you ever had them.”

“ Now,” said Ralph, with a smile “ to return to the point
from which we have strayed. I have a little party of — of —

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

147

gentlemen with whom I am connected in business just now/ at
my house tomorrow, and your mother has promised that you
shall keep house for me. I am not much used to parties;
but this is one of business, and such fooleries are an important
part of it sometimes. You don’t mind obliging me? ”

“ Mind ! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby. “ My dear Kate, why — ”

“ Pray,” interrupted Ralph, motioning her to be silent. “ I
spoke to my niece.”

“ I shall be very glad, of course, uncle, but I am afraid
you will find me awkward and embarrassed.”

“ Oh no. Come when you like, in a hackney coach — I’ll
pay for it. Good night — a — a — God bless you.”

The blessing seemed to stick in Mr. Ralph Nickleby’s
throat, as if it were not used to the thoroughfare, and didn’t
know the way out. But it got out somehow, though awk¬
wardly enough; and having disposed of it, he shook hands with
his two relatives and abruptly left them.

“ What a very strongly marked countenance your uncle
has! ” said Mrs. Nickleby, quite struck with his parting look.
“ I don’t see the slightest resemblance to his poor brother.”

“ Mama ! ” said Kate reprovingly. “ To think of such a
thing! ”

“ No,” said Mrs. Nickleby, musing. “ There certainly is
none. But it’s a very honest face.”

The worthy matron made this remark with great emphasis
as if it comprised no small quantity of ingenuity and research.
Kate looked up hastily, and as hastily looked down again.

“ What has come over you, my dear, in the name of good¬
ness? ” asked Mrs. Nickleby, when they had walked on, for
some time, in silence.

“ I was only thinking, mama.”

“ Thinking! Yes, and indeed, plenty to think about, too.
Your uncle has taken a strong fancy to you — that’s quite
clear.”

148

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The next day, in good time, or in bad time, as the reader
likes to take it — (for Mrs. Nickleby’s impatience went a good
deal faster than the clocks at the end of the town, and Kate
was dressed to the very last hairpin a full hour and a half
before it was at all necessary to begin to think about it)
with many adieux to her mother and many kind messages to
Miss La Creevy, who was to come to tea, Kate Nickleby
went away in state, if ever anybody went away in state in
a hackney coach yet. And the coach, and the coachman, and
the horses, rattled, and jangled, and whipped, and cursed,
and swore, and tumbled on together, until they came to
Golden Square.

The coachman gave a tremendous double knock at the
door, which was opened long before he had done, as quickly
as if there had been a man behind it with his hand tied to the
latch. Kate, who had expected no more uncommon ap¬
pearance than Newman Noggs in a clean shirt, was not a
little astonished to see that the opener was a man in hand¬
some livery and that there were two or three others in the
hall. She was ushered upstairs into a back drawing-room,
where she was left alone.

If she had been surprised at the apparition of the foot¬
man, she was perfectly absorbed in amazement at the' richness
and splendour of the furniture. The softest and most elegant
carpets, the most exquisite pictures, the costliest mirrors,
articles of richest ornament, encountered her on every side.
The very staircase, nearly down to the hall door, was crammed
with beautiful and luxurious things, as though the house were
brimfull of riches, which, with a very trifling addition, would
fairly run over into the street.

At length, the door opened, and Ralph himself, divested
of his boots, and ceremoniously embellished with black silks
and shoes, presented his crafty face.

“ I couldn’t see you before, my dear,” he said, in a low

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

149

tone, and pointing, as he spoke, to the next room. “ I was
engaged in receiving them. Now — shall I take you in?”

“ Pray, uncle,” said Kate, a little flurried, as people much
more conversant with society often are, when they are about
to enter a roomfull of strangers and have had time to think
of it previously, “ are there any ladies here?”

“ No, I don’t know any.”

“ Must I go in immediately? ”

“ As you please. They are all come, and dinner will be
announced directly afterwards — that’s all.”

Kate would have entreated a few minutes’ respite, but
reflecting that her uncle might consider the payment of the
hackney coach fare a sort of bargain for her punctuality,
she suffered him to draw her arm through his, and to lead
her away.

Seven or eight gentlemen were standing round the fire
when they went in and, as they were talking very loud, were
not aware of their entrance until Mr. Ralph Nickleby,
touching one on the coat sleeve, said in a harsh emphatic
voice, as if to attract general attention -

“ Lord Frederick Verisopht, my niece, Miss Nickleby.”

The group dispersed, as if in great surprise, and the gentle¬
man addressed, turning round, exhibited a suit of clothes
of the most superlative cut, a pair of whiskers of similar
quality, a moustache, a head of hair, and a young face.

“Eh! ” said the gentleman. “ What — the — deyvle ! ”

With which broken ejaculation, he fixed his glass in his
eye, and stared at Miss Nickleby in great surprise.

“ My niece, my lord.”

“ Then my ears did not deceive me, and it’s not wa-a-x
work; How dee do? I’m very happy.” And then his
lordship turned to another superlative gentleman, something
older, something stouter, something redder in the face, and
said in a loud whisper that the girl was “ deyvlish pitty.

150

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Introduce me, Nickleby,” said this second gentleman,
who was lounging with his back to the fire and both elbows
on the chimney piece.

“ Sir Mulberry Hawk,” said Ralph.

“ Otherwise the most knowing card in the pa-ack, Miss
Nickleby,” said Lord Frederick Verisopht.

“ Don’t leave me out, Nickleby,” cried a sharp-faced
gentleman, who was sitting on a low chair with a high back,
reading the paper.

“ Mr. Pyke,” said Ralph.

“ Nor me, Nickleby,” cried a gentleman with a flushed face
and a flashy air, from the elbow of Sir Mulberry Hawk.

“Mr. Pluck,” said Ralph. Then wheeling about again,
towards a gentleman with the neck of a stork and the legs
of no animal in particular, Ralph introduced him as the
Honourable Mr. Snobb; and a white-headed person at the
table as Colonel Chowser. The colonel was in conversation
with somebody, who appeared to be a make-weight, and
was not introduced at all.

There were two circumstances which, in this early stage
of the party, struck home to Kate’s bosom and brought the
blood tingling to her face. One was the flippant contempt
with which the guests evidently regarded her uncle, and the
other, the easy insolence of their manner towards herself.

When Ralph had completed the ceremony of introduction,
he led his blushing niece to a seat. As he did so, he glanced
warily round as though to assure himself of the impression
which her unlooked-for appearance had created.

“An unexpected playsure, Nickleby,” said Lord Frederick
Verisopht, taking his glass out of his right eye, where it had,
until now, done duty on Kate and fixing it in his left, to
bring it to bear on Ralph.

“ Designed to surprise you, Lord Frederick,” said Mr.
Pluck.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

151

“ Not a bad idea,” said his lordship, “ and one that would
almost warrant the addition of an extra two and a half per
cent.”

“ Nickleby,” said Sir Mulberry Hawk, in a thick coarse
voice, “ take the hint, and tack it on to the other five-and-
twenty, or whatever it is, and give me half for the advice.”

Sir Mulberry garnished this speech with a hoarse laugh,
whereat Messrs. Pvke and Pluck laughed together.

These gentlemen had not yet quite recovered from the jest
when dinner was announced, and then they were thrown
into fresh ecstasies by a similar cause; for Sir Mulberry
Hawk, in an excess of humour, shot dexterously past Lord
Frederick Yerisopht, who was about to lead Kate downstairs,
and drew her arm throtigh his up to the elbow.

“ No, damn it, Yerisopht, fair play’s a jewel, and Miss
Nickleby and I settled the matter with our eyes ten minutes
ago.”

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” laughed the Honourable Mr. Snobb, “ very
good, very good.”

Rendered additionally witty by this applause, Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk leered upon his friends most facetiously and led
Kate downstairs with an air of familiarity which roused in
her gentle breast such burning, indignation as she felt it
almost impossible to repress. Nor was the intensity of these
feelings at all diminished when she found herself placed at
the top of the table, with Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord
Frederick Yerisopht on either side.

“ Oh, you’ve found your way into our neighbourhood,
have you? ” said Sir Mulberry as his lordship sat down.

“ Of course,” replied Lord Frederick, fixing his eyes on
Miss Nickleby, “ how can you a-ask me? ”

“Well, you attend to your dinner, and don’t mind Miss
Nickleby and me, for we shall prove very indifferent com¬
pany, I dare say.”

152

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I wish you’d interfere here, Nickleby,” said Lord Fred¬
erick.

“What is the matter, my lord?” demanded Ralph from
the bottom of the table, where he was supported by Messrs.
Pyke and Pluck.

“ This fellow, Hawk, is monopolising your niece.”

“ He has a tolerable share of everything that you lay claim
to, my lord,” said Ralph with a sneer.

“ Gad, so he has, deyvle take me if I know which is master
in my own house, he or I.”

“ I know,” muttered Ralph.

“ I think I shall cut him off with a shilling,” said the young
nobleman, jocosely.

“ No, no, curse it,” said Sir Mulberry. “ When you come
to the shilling — that last shilling — I’ll cut you fast enough ;
but till then, I’ll never leave you — you may take your oath
of it.”

This sally was received with a general roar, above which
was plainly distinguishable the laughter of Mr. Pyke and
Mr. Pluck, who were evidently Sir Mulberry’s toads in
ordinary. Indeed, it was not difficult to see that the majority
of the company preyed upon the unfortunate young lord,
who, weak and silly as he was, appeared by far the least
vicious of the party. Sir Mulberry Hawk was remarkable
for his tack in ruining, by himself and his creatures, young
gentlemen of fortune — a genteel and elegant profession, of
which he had undoubtedly gained the head.

The dinner was elegant and the company were remarkable
for doing it ample justice, in which respect Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck particularly signalised themselves; these two gentle¬
men eating of every dish and drinking of every bottle with
a capacity and perseverance truly astonishing. They were
remarkably fresh, too, notwithstanding their great exer¬
tions; for on the appearance of the dessert, they broke out

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 153

again, as if nothing serious had taken place since break¬
fast.

“ Well,” said Lord Frederick, sipping his first glass of port,
“ if this is a discounting dinner, all I have to say is, deyvle
take me, if it wouldn’t be a good pla-an to get discount every
day.”

“ You’ll have plenty of it, in your time,” returned Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk; “ Nickleby will tell you that!”

“ What do you say, Nickleby? ” inquired the young man.
“ Am I to be a good customer? ”

“It depends entirely on circumstances, , my lord,” replied
Ralph.

“ On your lordship’s circumstances,” interposed Colonel
Chowser of the Militia — and the race-courses.

The gallant colonel glanced at Messrs. Pyke and Pluck as
if he thought they ought to laugh at his joke; but those
gentlemen, being only engaged to laugh for Sir Mulberry
Hawk, were as grave as a pair of undertakers.

All this while, Kate had sat as silently as she could, scarcely
daring to raise her eyes, lest they should encounter the admir¬
ing gaze of Lord Frederick Yerisopht or, what was still more
embarrassing, the bold looks of his friend, Sir Mulberry.
The latter gentleman was obliging enough to direct general
attention towards her, saying, “ Here is Miss Nickleby,
wondering why the deuce somebody doesn’t make love
to her.”

“ No, indeed,” said Kate, hastily looking up, “ I - ” and

then she stopped, feeling it would have been better to have
said nothing at all.

“ I’ll hold any man fifty pounds,” said Sir Mulberry, “ that
Miss Nickleby can’t look in my face and tell me she wasn’t
thinking so.”

“Done! ” cried the noble gull. “Within ten minutes.”

f'Pone| ” repeated Sir Mulberry, The money was pro-

154

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

duced on both sides, and the Honourable Mr. Snobb was
elected to the double office of stakeholder and timekeeper.

“ Pray/’ said Kate, in great confusion, while these pre¬
liminaries were in course of completion. “ Please do not
make me the subject of any bets. Uncle, I cannot really - ”

“Why not, my dear?” replied Ralph, in whose grating
voice, however, there was an unusual huskiness, as though
he spoke unwillingly and would rather that the proposition
had not been broached. “It is done in a moment; there
is nothing in it. If the gentlemen insist on it - ”

“/ don’t insist on it,” said Mulberry, with a loud laugh.
“ That is, I by no means insist upon Miss Nickleby’s making
the denial, for if she does, I lose; but I shall be glad to see
her bright eyes, especially as she favours the mahogany so
much.”

“ So she does, and it’s too ba-a-d of you, Miss Nickleby,”
said the noble youth.

“ Quite cruel,” said Mr. Pyke.

“ Horrid cruel,” said Mr. Pluck.

“I don’t care if I do lose,” said Sir Mulberry; “for one
tolerable look at Miss Nickleby’s eyes is worth double the
money.”

“ More,” said Mr. Pyke.

“ Far more,” said Mr. Pluck.

“ How goes the enemy, Snobb? ” asked Sir Mulberry Hawk.

“ Four minutes gone.”

“ Bravo ! ”

“ Won’t you ma-ake one effort for me, Miss Nickleby? ”
asked Lord Frederick, after a short interval.

“ You needn’t trouble yourself to inquire, my buck,” said
Sir Mulberry; “ Miss Nickleby and I understand each other;
she declares on my side and shows her taste. You haven’t
a chance, old fellow. Time, Snobb? ”

" Eight minutes gone.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 155

“ Get the money ready,” said Sir Mulberry; “ you’ll soon
hand over.”

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” laughed Mr. Pyke.

Mr. Pluck, who always came second and topped his
companion if he could, screamed outright.

The poor girl, who was so overwhelmed with confusion
that she scarcely knew what she did, had determined to
remain perfectly quiet but, fearing that by so doing she might
seem to countenance Sir Mulberry’s boast, which had been
uttered with great coarseness and vulgarity of manner,
raised her eyes and looked him in the face. There was some¬
thing so odious, so insolent, so repulsive in the look which
met her that, without the power to stammer forth a syllable,
she rose and hurried from the room. She restrained her
tears by a great effort until she was alone upstairs, and then
gave them vent.

“ Capital ! ” said Sir Mulberry Hawk, putting the stakes
in his pocket. “ That’s a girl of spirit, and we’ll drink her
health.”

It is needless to say, that Pyke and Co. responded, with
great warmth of manner, to this proposal, or that the toast
was drunk with many little insinuations from the firm, rela¬
tive to the completeness of Sir Mulberry’s conquest.

Ralph, who, while the attention of the other guests was
attracted to the principals in the preceding scene, had eyed
them like a wolf, appeared to breathe more freely now his
niece was gone; the decanters passed quickly round; he
leaned back in his chair, and turned his eyes from speaker to
speaker, as they warmed with wine, with looks that seemed
to search their hearts and lay bare, for his distempered sport,
every idle thought within them.

Meanwhile Kate, left wholly to herself, had, in some degree,
recovered her composure. She had learned from a female
attendant that her uncle wished to see her before she left and

156

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

had also gleaned the satisfactory intelligence that the gentle¬
men would take coffee at table. The prospect of seeing
them no more contributed greatly to calm her agitation, and
taking up a book, she composed herself to read.

She started sometimes, when the sudden opening of the
dining room door let loose a wild shout of noisy revelry, and
more than once rose in great alarm, as a fancied footstep
on the staircase impressed her with the fear that some stray
member of the party was returning alone. Nothing oc¬
curring, however, to realise her apprehensions, she endeav¬
oured to fix her attention more closely on her book, in which
by degrees she became so much interested that she had read
on through several chapters without heed of time or place,
when she was terrified by suddenly hearing her name pro¬
nounced by a man’s voice close at her ear.

The book fell from her hand. Lounging on an ottoman
close beside her was Sir Mulberry Hawk, evidently the worse
for wine.

“ What a delightful studiousness! Was it real, now, or
only to display the eyelashes ? ”

Kate, looking anxiously towards the door, made no reply.

“ I have looked at ’em for five minutes ; upon my soul,
they’re perfect. Why did I speak and destroy such a pretty
little picture! ”

“ Do me the favour to be silent,” said Kate, indignantly.

“ No, don’t,” said Sir Mulberry, folding his crushed hat
to lay his elbow on, and bringing himself still closer to the
young lady : “ upon my life, you oughtn’t to. Such a devoted
slave of yours, Miss Nickleby — it’s an infernal thing to
treat him so harshly, upon my soul it is.”

“ I wish you to understand, sir, that your behaviour
offends and disgusts me. If you have a spark of gentlemanly
feeling remaining, you will leave me.”

“ Now why will you keep up this appearance of excessive

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

157

rigour, my sweet creature? Now be more natural — my
dear Miss Nickleby, be more natural — do.”

Kate hastily rose; but as she rose, Sir Mulberry caught her
dress and forcibly detained her.

“ Let me go, sir,” she cried, her heart swelling with anger.
“ Do you hear? Instantly — this moment.”

“ Not for the world; sit down, sit down, I want to talk to
you.” Thus speaking, he leaned over, as if to replace her in
her chair; but the young lady, making an effort to disengage
herself, he lost his balance and measured his length upon the
ground. As Kate sprang forward to leave the room, Mr.
Ralph Nickleby appeared in the doorway and confronted
her.

“ What is this? ” said Ralph.

“It is this, sir,” replied Kate, violently agitated; “that
beneath the roof where I, a helpless girl, your dead brother’s
child, should most have found protection, I have been ex¬
posed to insult which should make you shrink to look upon me.
Let me pass you.”

Ralph did shrink, as the indignant girl fixed her kindling
eye upon him; but he did not comply with her injunction,
nevertheless ;* for he led her to a distant seat, and, returning
and approaching Sir Mulberry Hawk, who had by this time
risen, motioned towards the door.

“ Your way lies there, sir,” said Ralph, in a suppressed
voice.

“What do you mean by that?” demanded his frienci,
fiercely.

The swollen veins stood out like sinews on Ralph’s wrinkled
forehead, and the nerves about his mouth worked as though
some unendurable emotion wrung them; but he smiled dis¬
dainfully, and again pointed to the door.

“ Do you know me, you old madman ? ” asked Sir Mul¬
berry.

158

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Well,” said Ralph. The fashionable vagabond for the
moment quailed under the steady look of the older sinner,
and walked towards the door, muttering as he went.

“ You wanted the lord, did you? ” he said, stopping short
when he reached the door, as if a new light had broken in
upon him, and confronting Ralph again. “ Damme, I was
in the way, was I ? ”

Ralph smiled again, but made no answer.

“ Who brought him to you first? ” pursued Sir Mulberry;
“ and how, without me, could you ever have wound him in
your net as you have ? ”

“ The net is a large one and rather full,” said Ralph.
“ Take care that it chokes nobody in the meshes.”

“ You would sell your flesh and blood for money; yourself,
if you have not already made a bargain with the devil,”
retorted the other. “ Do you mean to tell me that your
pretty niece was not brought here as a decoy for the drunken
boy downstairs ? ”

Although this hurried dialogue was carried on, in a sup-
pressed tone on both sides, Ralph looked involuntarily round
to ascertain that Kate had not moved her position so as to
be within hearing. His adversary saw the advantage he had
gained and followed it up.

“ Do you mean to tell me that it is not so ? Do you mean
to say that, if he had found his way up here instead of me,
you wouldn’t have been a little more blind, and a little more
deaf, and a little less flourishing, than you have been? Come,
Nickleby, answer me that.”

“ I tell you this ; that if I brought her here, as a matter
of business - ”

“ Aye, that’s the word,” with a laugh. “ You’re coming
to yourself again now.”

“ — As a matter of business,” pursued Ralph, speaking
slowly and firmly, as a man who has made up his mind to

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

159

say no more, “ because I thought she might make some im¬
pression on the silly youth you have taken in hand and are
lending good help to ruin, I knew — knowing him — that it
would be long before he outraged her girl’s feelings, and that
he would, with a little management, respect the sex and
conduct even of his usurer’s niece. But if I thought to draw
him on more gently by this device, I did not think of sub¬
jecting the girl to the licentiousness and brutality of so old
a hand as you. And now we understand each other.”

“ Especially as there was nothing to be got by it — eh? ”
sneered Sir Mulberry.

“ Exactly so,” said Ralph. He had turned away, and
looked over his shoulder to make this last reply. The eyes
of the two worthies met, with an expression as if each rascal
felt that there was no disguising himself from the other;
and Sir Mulberry Hawk shrugged his shoulders and walked
slowly out.

His friend closed the door and looked restlessly towards the
spot where his niece still remained in the attitude in which
he had left her. She had flung herself heavily upon the
couch and, with her head drooping over the cushion and her
face hidden in her hands, seemed to be still weeping in an
agony of shame and grief.

Ralph took a chair at some distance; then another a little
nearer; then nearer again, and finally sat on the same sofa,
and laid his hand on Kate’s arm.

“ Hush, my dear ! ” he said, as she drew it back, and her
sobs burst out afresh. “ Hush, hush! Don’t mind it now;
don’t think of it.”

“ Oh, for pity’s sake, let me go home, let me leave this
house and go home.”

“ Yes, yes, you shall. But you must dry your eyes first
and compose yourself. Let me raise your head. There —
there.”

160

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Oh, uncle ! What have I done — what have I done —
that you should subject me to this? If I had wronged you
in thought, or word, or deed, it would have been most cruel
to me and to the memory of one you must have loved in
some old time; but - ”

“ Only listen to me for a moment,” interrupted Ralph,
seriously alarmed by the violence of her emotions. “ I didn’t
know it would be so; it was impossible for me to foresee it.
I did all I could. — Come, let us wralk about. You are faint
with the closeness of the room and the heat of these lamps.
You will be better now, if you make the slightest effort.”

“ I will do anything if you will only send me home.”

“ Well, well, I will, but you must get back your own looks;
for those you have will frighten them, and nobody must
know of this but you and I. Now let us walk the other way.
There. You look better even now.”

With such encouragements as these, Ralph Nickleby
walked to and fro with his niece leaning on his arm, actually
trembling beneath her touch.

In the same manner, when he judged it prudent to allow
her to depart, he supported her downstairs, after adjusting
her shawl and performing such little offices, most probably
for the first time in his life. Across the hall, and down the
steps, Ralph led her too ; nor did he withdraw his hand until
she was seated in the coach.

As the door of the vehicle was roughly closed, a comb fell
from Kate’s hair, close at her uncle’s feet; and as he picked
it up and returned it into her hand, the light from a neigh¬
bouring lamp shone upon her face. The lock of hair that
had escaped and curled loosely over her brow, the traces
of tears yet scarcely dry, the flushed cheek, the look of sor¬
row, all fired some dormant train of recollection in the old
man’s breast; and the face of his dead brother seemed present
.before him, with the very look it bore on some occasion of

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

161

boyish grief of which every circumstance flashed upon his
mind with the distinctness of a scene of yesterday.

Ralph Nickleby, who was proof against all appeals of
blood and kindred — who was steeled against every tale of
sorrow and distress, — staggered while he looked, and went
back into his house as a man who had seen a spirit from
some world beyond the grave.

CHAPTER XIII

LITTLE Miss La Creevy trotted briskly through divers
streets at the west end of the town, early on Monday
morning — the day after the dinner — charged with the
important commission of acquainting Madame Mantalini
that Miss Nickleby was too unwell to attend that day, but
hoped to be enabled to resume her duties on the morrow. As
Miss La Creevy walked along, she cogitated a good deal upon
the probable causes of her young friend’s indisposition.

“ I don’t know what to make of it, her eyes were decidedly
red last night. She said she had a headache; headaches
don’t occasion red eyes. She must have been crying. I
can’t think of anything, unless it was the behaviour of that
old bear. Cross to her, I suppose? Unpleasant brute! ”
Relieved by this expression of opinion, although it was
vented upon empty air, Miss La Creevy trotted on to Madame
Mantalini ’s; and being informed that the governing power
was not yet out of bed, requested an interview with the
second in command, whereupon Miss Knag appeared.

“ So far as I am concerned,” said Miss Knag, when the
message had been delivered, “ I could spare Miss Nickleby
for evermore.”

“ Oh, indeed, ma’am ! But, you see, you are not mistress
of the business, and therefore it’s of no great consequence,”
said Miss La Creevy.

“Very good, ma’am. Have you any further commands
for me? ”

“ No, I have not, ma’am,” said Miss La Creevy.

“ Then good morning, ma’am.”

162

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 163

“ Good morning to you, ma’am, and many obligations for
your extreme politeness and good breeding.”

Thus terminating the interview during which both ladies
had trembled very much and been marvellously polite —
certain indications that they were within an inch of a very
desperate quarrel — Miss La Creevy bounced out of the
room, and into the street.

“ I wonder who that is,” said the queer little soul. “ A
nice person to know, I should think ! I wish I had the paint¬
ing of her; I’d do her justice.” So, feeling quite satisfied
that she had said a very cutting thing at Miss Knag’s ex¬
pense, Miss La Creevy had a hearty laugh and went home
to breakfast in great good humour.

Here was one of the advantages of having lived alone so
long! The little bustling, active, cheerful creature existed
entirely within herself, talked to herself, made a confidante of
herself, was as sarcastic as she could be on people who offended
her by herself, pleased herself, and did no harm. She went
home to breakfast and had scarcely caught the full flavour of
her first sip of tea, when the servant announced a gentleman.
Miss La Creevy at once imagined a new sitter and was in
unspeakable consternation at the presence of the tea things.

“Here, take ’em away; run with ’em into the bedroom;
anywhere,” said Miss La Creevy to her maid. “ Dear, dear!
To think that I should be late on this particular morning of
all others after being ready for three weeks by half-past
eight o’clock, and not a soul coming near the place! ”

“ Don’t let me put you out of the way,” said a voice Miss
La Creevy knew. “ I told the servant not to mention my
name, because I wished to surprise you.”

“Mr. Nicholas! ”

“ You have not forgotten me, I see,” replied Nicholas,
extending his hand.

“ Why, I think I should have known you even if I had met

164

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

you in the street. Hannah, another cup and saucer. But
now I look at you again, you seem thinner than when I saw
you last, and your face is haggard and pale. And how come
you to have left Yorkshire? ”

She stopped here, for there was so much heart in her altered
tone and manner that Nicholas was quite moved.

“ I need look somewhat changed,” he said, after a short
silence, “ for I have undergone some suffering, both of mind
and body, since I left London. I have been very poor, too,
and have even suffered from want.”

“ Good heavens, Mr. Nicholas, what are you telling me ! ”
“ Nothing which need distress you quite so much,” answered
Nicholas, with a more sprightly air; “ neither did I come here
to bewail my lot, but on a matter more to the purpose. I
wish to meet my uncle face to face. I should tell you that
first.”

“ Then all I have to say about that is that I don’t envy
you your taste; and that sitting in the same room with his
very boots would put me out of humour for a fortnight.”

“ In the main, there may be no great difference of opinion
between you and me, so far; but you will understand that I
desire to confront him, to justify myself, and to cast his
duplicity and malice in his throat.”

“ That’s quite another matter,” rejoined Miss La Creevy.
“ Heaven forgive me, but I shouldn’t cry my eyes quite out
of my head if they choked him. Well? ”

“ To this end, I called upon him this morning,” said Nicho¬
las. “ He only returned to town on Saturday, and I knew
nothing of his arrival until late last night.”

“ And did you see him ? ”

“ No, he had gone out.”

“ Hah ! on some kind, charitable business, I dare say.”

“ I have reason to believe, from what has been told me by
a friend of mine who is acquainted with his movements, that

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

165

he intends seeing my mother and sister today and giving
them his version of the occurrences that have befallen me.
I will meet him there.”

“ That’s right; and yet, I don’t know; there is much to be
thought of — others to be considered.”

" I have considered others ; but as honesty and honour are
both at issue, nothing shall deter me.”

" You should know best.”

“ In this case I hope so, and all I want you to do for me
is to prepare them for my coming. They think me a long
way off ; and if I went wholly unexpected, I should frighten
them. If you can spare time to tell them that you have seen
me and that I shall be with them in a quarter of an hour
afterwards, you will do me a great service.”

“ I wish I could do you, or any of you, a greater service,
but the power to serve is as seldom joined with the will as the
will is with the power, I think.”

Talking on very fast and very much, Miss La Creevy
finished her breakfast with great expedition, put away the
tea caddy, and hid the key under the fender, resumed her
bonnet, and, taking Nicholas’s arm, sallied forth at once to
the city. Nicholas left her near the door of his mother’s
house and promised to return within a quarter of an hour.

When Miss La Creevy, admitted by a girl who was clean¬
ing the house, made her way to the sitting room, she found
Mrs. Nickleby and Kate in tears, and Ralph just concluding
his statement of his nephew’s misdemeanours. Kate beck¬
oned her not to retire, and Miss La Creevy took a seat in
silence.

“ You are here already, are you, my gentleman? ” thought
the little woman. "Then he shall announce himself, and
see what effect that has on you.”

“ This is pretty,” said Ralph, folding up Miss Squeers’s
note; "very pretty. I recommended him — against all my

166

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

previous conviction, for I knew he would never do any good
— to a man with whom, behaving himself properly, he
might have remained, in comfort, for years. What is the
result? Conduct for which he might be put in jail at the
Old Bailey.”

“ I never will believe it,” said Kate, indignantly. “ Never.
It is some base conspiracy which carries its own falsehood
with it.”

“ My dear,” said Ralph, “ you wrong the worthy man.
These are not inventions. The man is assaulted, your brother
is not to be found; this boy, of whom they speak, goes with
him — remember, remember.”

“ It is impossible, Nicholas ! — and a thief, too ! Mama,
how can you sit and hear such statements ? ”

Poor Mrs. Nickleby, who had at no time been remarkable
for the possession of a very clear understanding, and who had
been reduced by the late changes in her affairs to a most
complicated state of perplexity, made no other reply to this
earnest remonstrance than exclaiming from behind a mass
of pocket handkerchief that she never could have believed
it — thereby most ingeniously leaving her hearers to suppose
that she did believe it.

“ It would be my duty, if he came in my way, to deliver
him up to justice,” said Ralph, “ my bounden duty. I should
have no other course, as a man of the world and a man of
business. And yet,” said Ralph, speaking in a very marked
manner and looking furtively, but fixedly, at Kate, “ and
yet I would not. I would spare the feeling of his — of his
sister. And his mother, of course,” added Ralph, as though
by an afterthought, and with far less emphasis.

Kate very well understood that this was held out as an
additional inducement to her, to preserve the strictest silence
regarding the events of the preceding night. She looked
involuntarily towards Ralph as he ceased to speak, but he had

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

167

turned his eyes another way and seemed for the moment
quite unconscious of her presence.

“ Everything,” said Ralph, after a long silence, broken
only by Mrs. Nickleby’s sobs, “ everything combines to prove
the truth of this letter, if indeed there were any possibility
of disputing it. Do innocent men steal away from the sight
of honest folks, and skulk in hiding places, like outlaws?
Do innocent men inveigle nameless vagabonds and prowl with
them about the country as idle robbers do? Assault, riot,
theft, what do you call these ? ”

“ A lie ! ” cried a voice, as the door was dashed open, and
Nicholas came into the room.

In the first moment of surprise, and possibly of alarm,
Ralph rose from his seat and fell back a few paces, quite
taken off his guard by this unexpected apparition. In
another moment, he stood, fixed and immovable; with folded
arms, regarding his nephew with a scowl, while Kate and
Miss La Creevy threw themselves between the two, to prevent
the personal violence which the fierce excitement of Nicholas
appeared to threaten.

“ Dear Nicholas,” cried his sister, clinging to him. “ Be
calm, consider - ”

“ Consider, Kate! ” cried Nicholas, clasping her hand so
tight in the tumult of his anger that she could scarcely bear
the pain. “ When I consider all and think of what has passed,
I need be made of iron to stand before him.”

“ Or bronze,” said Ralph, quietly; “ there is not hardihood
enough in flesh and blood to face it out.”

“ Oh dear, dear! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, “that things
should have come to such a pass as this!

“ Who speaks in a tone as if I had done wrong and brought
disgrace on them?” said Nicholas, looking round.

“Your mother, sir,” replied Ralph, motioning towards
her.

168

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Whose ears have been poisoned by you, by you — who,
under pretence of deserving the thanks she poured upon you,
heaped every insult, wrong, and indignity, upon my head;
5rou, who sent me to a den where sordid cruelty, worthy
of yourself, runs wanton, and youthful misery stalks preco¬
cious; where the lightness of childhood shrinks into the
heaviness of age, and its every promise blights and withers
as it grows. I call heaven to witness that I have seen all this
and that he knows it.”

“ Refute these calumnies,” said Kate, “ and be more patient,
so that you may give them no advantage. Tell us what you
really did, and show that they are untrue.”

“ Of what do they — or of what does he — accuse me ? ”

“ First, of attacking your master, and being within an ace
of qualifying yourself to be tried for murder,” interposed
Ralph. “ I speak plainly, young man, bluster as you will.”

“ I interfered to save a miserable creature from the vilest
cruelty. In so doing, I inflicted such punishment upon a
wretch as he will not readily forget, though far less than he
deserved from me. If the same scene were renewed before
me now, I would take the same part ; but I would strike harder
and heavier, and brand him with such marks as he should
carry to his grave, go to it when he would.”

“ You hear?” said Ralph, turning to Mrs. Nickleby.
“ Penitence, this ! ”

“ Oh dear me ! I don’t know what to think, I really don’t.”

“ Do not speak just now, mama, I entreat you,” said Kate.
“ Dear Nicholas, I only tell you that you may know what
wickedness can prompt, but they accuse you of — a ring is
missing, and they dare to say that - ”

“ The woman,” said Nicholas, haughtily, “ the wife of the
fellow from whom these charges come, dropped — as I sup¬
pose — a worthless ring among some clothes of mine, early
in the morning on which I left the house. At least, I know

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

169

that she was in the bedroom where they lay, struggling with
an unhappy child, and that I found it when I opened my
bundle on the road. I returned it, at once, by coach, and
they have it now.”

“ I knew, I knew ” said Kate, looking towards her uncle.
“ About this boy, love, in whose company they say you left ? ”

“ The boy, a silly, helpless creature from brutality and hard
usage, is with me now.”

“ You hear? ” said Ralph, appealing to the mother again,
“everything proved, even upon his own confession. Do you
choose to restore that boy, sir ? ”

“No. I do not,” said Nicholas, boldly.

“ You do not? ” sneered Ralph.

“ No, not to the man with whom I found him. I would
that I knew on whom he has the claim of birth : I might wring,
something from his sense of shame, if he were dead to every
tie of nature.”

“ Indeed! ” said Ralph. “ Now, sir, will you hear a word
or two from me? ”

“ You can speak when and what you please,” replied Nicho¬
las, embracing his sister. “ I take little heed of what you
say or threaten.”

“ Mighty well, sir, but perhaps it may concern others, who
may think it worth their while to listen and consider what I
tell them. I will address your mother, sir, who knows the
world.”

“ Oh ! and I only too dearly wish I didn’t,” sobbed Mrs.
Nickleby.

There really was no necessity for the good lady to be much
distressed upon this particular head ; the extent of her worldly
knowledge being, to say the least, very questionable; and
so Ralph seemed to think, for he smiled as he spoke. He
then glanced steadily at her and Nicholas by turns, as he
delivered himself in these words:

170

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Of what I have done, or what I meant to do, for you,
ma’am, and my niece, I say not one syllable. I held out no
promise and leave you to judge for yourself. I hold out no
threat now, but I say that this boy, headstrong, wTilful, and
disorderly as he is, should not have one penny of my money,
or one crust of my bread, or one grasp of my hand, to save
him from the loftiest gallows in all Europe. I will not meet
him, come where he comes, or hear his name. I will not
help him, or those who help him. With a full knowledge of
what he brought upon you by so doing, he has come back
in his selfish sloth to be an aggravation of your wants and
a burden upon his sister’s scanty wages. I regret to leave
you, and more to leave her, now, but I will not encourage this
compound of meanness and cruelty, and as I will not ask
you to renounce him, I see you no more.”

If Ralph had not known and felt his power in wounding
those he hated, his glances at Nicholas would have shown
it to him in all its force as he proceeded in the above address.
Innocent as the young man was of all wrong, every artful
insinuation stung; every well-considered sarcasm cut him
to the quick; and when Ralph noted his pale face and quiver¬
ing lip, he hugged himself to mark how well he had chosen
the taunts best calculated to strike deep into a young and
ardent spirit.

“ I can’t help it,” cried Mrs. Nickleby. “ I know you
have been very good to us and meant to do a good deal for
my daughter. I am quite sure of that ; I know you did, and
it was very kind of you, having her at your house and all —
and of course it would have been a great thing for her and
for me too. But I can’t, you know, brother-in-law, I can’t
renounce my own son, even if he had done all you say he has
— it’s not possible; I couldn’t do it; so we must go to rack
and ruin, Kate, my dear. I can bear it, I dare say.” Pour¬
ing forth these and a perfectly wonderful train of other dis-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

171

jointed expressions of regret, which no mortal power but Mrs.
Nickleby’s could ever have strung together, that lady wrung
her hands, and her tears fell faster.

“ Why, do you say if Nicholas has done what they say he
has, mama ? ” asked Kate, with honest anger. “ You know he
has not.”

“ I don’t know what to think, one way or other, my dear.
Nicholas is so violent, and your uncle has so much composure
that I can only hear what he says, and not what Nicholas
does. Never mind, don’t let us talk any more about it.
We can go to the workhouse, or the Refuge for the Destitute,
or the Magdalen Hospital, I dare say; and the sooner we
go the better.” With this extraordinary jumble of chari¬
table institutions, Mrs. Nickleby again gave way to her tears.

“ Stay,” said Nicholas, as Ralph turned to go. “ You need
not leave this place, sir, for it will be relieved of my presence
in one minute, and it will be long, very long, before I darken
these doors again.”

“ Nicholas,” cried Kate, throwing herself on her brother’s
shoulder, “ do not say so. My dear brother, you will break
my heart. Mama, speak to him. Do not mind her, Nicho¬
las; she does not mean it; you should know her better.
Uncle, somebody, for heaven’s sake speak to him.”

“ I never meant, Kate,” said Nicholas, tenderly, “ I never
meant to stay among you ; think better of me than to suppose
it possible. I may turn my back on this town a few hours
sooner than I intended, but what of that? We shall not
forget each other apart, and better days will come when we
shall part no more. Be a woman, Kate,” he whispered,
proudly, “ and do not make me one, while he looks on.”

“ No, no, I will not,” said Kate, eagerly; “but you will
not leave us. Oh! think of all the happy days we have had
together, before these terrible misfortunes came upon us;
of all the comfort and happiness of home, and the trials we

172

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

have to bear now; of our having no protector under all the
slights and wrongs that poverty so much favours, and you
cannot leave us to bear them alone, without one hand to help
us.”

“You will be helped when I am away; I am no help to
you, no protector; I should bring you nothing but sprrow,
and want, and suffering. My own mother sees it, and her
fondness and fears for you point to the course that I should
take. And so all good angels bless you, Kate, till I can take
you to some home of mine, where we may revive the happiness
denied to us now and talk of these trials as of things gone by.
Do not keep me here, but let me go at once. There dear
girl — dear girl.” Nicholas -stooped over her for a few
seconds and, placing her gently in a chair, confided her to their
honest friend, Miss La Creevy.

“ I need not entreat your sympathy,” he said, wringing her
hand, “ for I know your nature. You will never forget
them.”

He stepped up to Ralph, who had remained in the same
attitude which he had preserved throughout the interview.

“ Whatever step you take, sir,” he said, in a voice inaudible
beyond themselves, “ I shall keep a strict account of. I leave
them to you, at your desire. There will be a day of reckoning
sooner or later, and it will be a heavy one for you if they
are wronged.”

Ralph did not allow a muscle of his face to indicate that
he heard one word of this parting address. He hardly knew
that it was concluded, and Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely made
up her mind to detain her son by force if necessary, when
Nicholas was gone.

As he hurried through the streets to his obscure lodging,
seeking to keep pace, as it were, with the rapidity of the
thoughts which crowded upon him, many doubts and hesi¬
tations arose in his mind and almost tempted him to return.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

173

But -what would they gain by this? Supposing he were to
put Ralph Nickleby at defiance and were even fortunate
enough to obtain some small employment, his being with
them could only render their present condition worse and
might greatly impair their future prospects; for his mother
had spoken of some new kindness towards Kate which she
had not denied.

Nicholas at length reached his poor room, where, no longer
borne up by the excitement which had hitherto sustained him
but depressed by the revulsion of feeling it left behind, he
threw himself on the bed and, turning his face to the wall,
gave free vent to the emotions he had so long stifled.

He had not heard anybody enter and was unconscious of
the presence of Smike until, happening to raise his head, he
saw him standing at the upper end of the room, looking wist¬
fully towards him. He withdrew his eyes when he saw that
he was observed, and affected to be busied with some scanty
preparations for dinner.

“Well, Smike,” said Nicholas, as cheerfully as he could
speak, “ let me hear what new acquaintances you have made
this morning, or what new wonder you have found out, in
the compass of this street and the next one.”

“ No,” said Smike, shaking his head mournfully; “ I must
talk of something else today.”

“ Of what you like,” replied Nicholas, good-humouredly.

“ Of this I know : you are unhappy and have got into
great trouble by bringing me away. I ought to have known
that, and stopped behind — I would, indeed, if I had thought
it then. You — you — are not rich: you have not enough
for yourself, and I should not be here. You grow,” said the
lad, laying his hand timidly on that of Nicholas, “ you grow
thinner every day; your cheek is paler, and your eye more
sunk. Indeed, I cannot bear to see you so, and think how
I am burdening you. I tried to go away today, but the

174

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

thought of your kind face drew me back. I could not leave
you without a word.” The poor fellow could say no more,
for his eyes filled with tears, and his voice was gone.

“ The word which separates us,” said Nicholas, grasping
him heartily by the shoulder, “ shall never be said by me,
for you are my only comfort and stay. I would not lose
you now, Smike, for all the world could give. The thought
of you has upheld me through all I have endured today, and
shall, through fifty times such trouble. Give me your hand.
My heart is linked to yours. We will journey from this
place together before the week is out. What if I am steeped
in poverty? You lighten it, and we will be poor together.”

CHAPTER XIV

THE whole capital which Nicholas found himself entitled
to, after paying his rent and settling with the broker
from whom he had hired his poor furniture, did not exceed,
by more than a few halfpence, the sum of twenty shillings.
And yet he hailed the morning on which he had resolved to
quit London with a light heart, and sprang from his bed with
an elasticity of spirit which is happily the lot of young
persons.

It was a cold, dry, foggy morning in early spring. A few
meagre shadows flitted to and fro in the misty streets, and
occasionally there loomed through the dull vapour the heavy
outline of some hackney coach wending homewards, which,
drawing slowly nearer, rolled jangling by, scattering the thin
crust of frost from its whitened roof, and soon was lost again
in the mist.

Nicholas made his way alone to the city, and stood be¬
neath the windows of his mother’s house. It was dull and
bare to see, but it had light and life for him; for there was
at least one heart within its old walls to which insult or
dishonour would bring the same blood rushing that flowed
in his own veins.

He crossed the road and raised his eyes to the window of
the room where he knew his sister slept. It was closed and
dark. “ Poor girl, she little thinks who lingers here.”

He looked again and felt, for the moment, almost vexed
that Kate was not there to exchange one word at. parting.
“ Good God ! ” he thought, suddenly correcting himself,
“ what a boy I am! ”

175

176

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ It is better as it is. When I left them before, and could
have said good bj^e a thousand times if I had chosen, I spared
them the pain of leave-taking, and why not now ? ” As he
spoke, some fancied motion of the curtain almost persuaded
him that Kate was at the window, and by one of those strange
contradictions of feeling which are common to us all, he
shrank involuntarily into a doorway, that she might not see
him. He smiled at his own weakness, said “ God bless them,”
and walked away with a lighter step.

Smike was anxiously expecting him when he reached his
old lodgings, and so was Newman, who had expended a day’s
income in a can of rum and milk to prepare them for the
journey. They had tied up the luggage; Smike shouldered
it, and away they went, with Newman Noggs in company;
for he had insisted on walking as far as he could with them.

“ Which way? ” asked Newman, wistfully.

“ To Kingston first.”

“ And where afterwards ? Why won’t you tell me ? ”

“ Because I scarcely know myself, good friend,” rejoined
Nicholas, laying his hand upon his shoulder ; “ and if I did,
I have neither plan nor prospect yet, and might shift my
quarters a hundred times before you could possibly com¬
municate with me.”

“ I am afraid you have some deep scheme in your head,”
said Newman, doubtfully.

“ So deep, that even I can’t fathom it. Whatever I re¬
solve upon, depend upon it I will write you soon.”

“ You won’t forget? ”

“ I am not very likely to. I have not so many friends
that I shall grow confused among the number, and forget
my best one.”

Occupied in such discourse, they walked on for a couple
of hours, as they might have done for a couple of days, if
Nicholas had not sat himself down .on a stone by the way-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

177

side and resolutely declared his intention of not moving
another step until Newman Noggs turned back. Having
pleaded ineffectually first for another half-mile, and after¬
wards for another quarter, Newman was fain to comply, and
to shape his course towards Golden Square, after interchang¬
ing many hearty and affectionate farewells, and many times
turning back to wave his hat to the two wayfarers when they
had become mere specks in the distance.

“ Now listen to me, Smike,” said Nicholas, as they trudged
with stout hearts onward. “ We are bound for Portsmouth.”

Smike nodded his head and smiled, but expressed no other
emotion; for whether they had been bound for Portsmouth
or Port Royal would have been alike to him, so they had
been bound together.

“ I don’t know much of these matters, but Portsmouth is
a seaport town ; and if no other employment is to be obtained,
I should think we might get on board some ship. I am young
and active and could be useful in many ways. So could you.”

“ I hope so. When I was at that — you know where I
mean? ”

“ Yes, I know; you needn’t name the place.”

“ Well, when I was there,” resumed Smike, his eyes spark¬
ling at the prospect of displaying his abilities, “ I could milk
a cow and groom a horse, with anybody.”

“ Ha ! I am afraid they don’t keep many animals of either
kind on board ship, Smike and, even when they have horses,
that they are not very particular about rubbing them down;
still you can learn to do something else, you know. Where
there’s a will, there’s a way.”

“ And I am very willing.”

“ God knows you are, and if you fail, it shall go hard, but
I’ll do enough for us both.”

“ Do we go all the way, today? ” asked Smike, after a short
silence.

178

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ That would be too severe a trial, even for your willing
legs,” said Nicholas, with a good-humoured smile. “ No.
Godaiming is some thirty and odd miles from London — as
I found from a map I borrowed — and I purpose to rest there.
We must push on again tomorrow, for we are not rich enough
to loiter. Let me relieve you of that bundle! Come! ”

“ No, no,” rejoined Smike, falling back a few steps.
“ Don’t ask me to give it up to you.”

“ Why not?”

“ Let me do something for you, at least. You will never
let me serve you as I ought. You will never know how I
think, day and night, of ways to please you.”

“ You are a foolish fellow to say it, for I know it well, and
see it, or I should be a blind and senseless beast. Let me
ask you a question while I think of it, and there is no one
by,” he added, looking him steadily in the face. “ Have you
a good memory?”

“ I don’t know,” said Smike, shaking his head sorrowfully.
“ I think I had once; but it’s all gone now — all gone.”

“ Why do you think you had once ? ” asked Nicholas,
turning quickly upon him as though the answer in some way
helped out the purport of his question.

“ Because I could remember, when I was a child, but that
is very, very long ago, or at least it seems so. I was always
confused and giddy at that place you took me from, and could
never remember, and sometimes couldn’t even understand,
what they said to me. I — let me see — let me see! ”

“ You are wandering now,” said Nicholas, touching him
on the arm.

“No,” replied his companion, with a vacant look. “ I

was only thinking how - .” He shivered involuntarily

as he spoke.

“ Think no more of that place, for it is all over,” retorted
Nicholas, fixing his eye full upon that of his companion,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

179

which was fast settling into an unmeaning stupefied gaze,
once habitual to him, and common even then. “ What of
the first day you went to Yorkshire? ”

“ Eh! ” cried the lad.

“ That was before you began to lose your recollection, you
know,” said Nicholas, quietly. “ Was the weather hot or
cold? ”

“ Wet, very wet. I have always said, when it has rained
hard, that it was like the night I came: and they used to
crowd round and . laugh to see me cry when the rain fell
heavily. It was like a child, they said, and that made me
think of it more. I turned cold all over sometimes, for I
could see myself as I was then, coming in at the very same
door.”

“ As you were then,” repeated Nicholas, with assumed care¬
lessness ; “ how was that ? ”

“ Such a little creature, that they might have had pity and
mercy upon me, only to remember it.”

“You didn’t find your way there, alone! ”

“No; oh, no.”

“ Who was with you ? ”

“A man — a dark, withered man. I have heard them
say so, at the school, and I remembered that before. I was
glad to leave him, I was afraid of him; but they made me
more afraid of them, and used me harder too.”

“ Look at me,” said Nicholas, wishing to attract his full
attention. “There; don’t turn away. Do you remember
no woman, no kind woman, who hung over you once, and
kissed your lips, and called you her child ? ”

“No,” said the poor creature, shaking his head; “no,
never.”

“Nor any house but that house in Yorkshire?”

“No,” rejoined the youth, with a melancholy look; “a
room — I remember I slept in a room, a large lonesome room

180

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

at the top of a house, where there was a trapdoor in the
ceiling. I have covered my head with the clothes often, not
to see it, for it frightened me — a young child with no one
near at night, and I used to wonder what was on the other
side. There was a clock, too, an old clock, in one corner. I
remember that. I have never forgotten that room; for when
I have terrible dreams, it comes back, just as it was. I see
things and people in it that I had never seen then,- but there
is the room just as it used to be, that never changes.”

“ Will you let me take the bundle now ? ” asked Nicholas,
abruptly changing the theme.

“ No, no. Come, let us walk on.”

He quickened his pace as he said this, apparently under
the impression that they had been standing still, during the
whole of the previous dialogue. Nicholas marked him closely,
and every word of this conversation remained upon his
memory.

It was by this time within an hour of noon; and although
a dense vapour still enveloped the city they had left, in the
open country it was clear and fair.

A broad, fine, honest sun lighted up the green pastures and
dimpled water with the semblance of summer, while it left
the travellers all the invigorating freshness of that early time
of year. The ground seemed elastic under their feet; the
sheep bells were music to their ears; and exhilarated by
exercise and stimulated by hope, they pushed onward with
the strength of lions.

The day wore on, and all these bright colours subsided and
assumed a quieter tint.

To Godaiming they came at last, and here they bargained
for two humble beds and slept soundly. In the morning
they were astir, though not quite so early as the sun, and
again afoot, if not with all the freshness of yesterday, still,
with enough of hope and spirit to bear them cheerily on.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

181

It was a harder day’s journey than yesterday’s, for there
were long and weary hills to climb; and in journeys, as in
life, it is a great deal easier to go down hill than up. How¬
ever, they kept on, with unabated perseverance, and the
hill has not yet lifted its face to heaven that perseverance
will not gain the summit of at last.1

By degrees, the prospect receded more and more on either
hand, and as they had been shut out from rich and exten¬
sive scenery, so they emerged once again upon the open
country. The knowledge that they were drawing near their
place of destination gave them fresh courage to proceed;
but the way had been difficult, and they had loitered on the
road, and Smike was tired. Thus twilight had already
closed in when they turned off the path to the door of a road¬
side inn, yet twelve miles short of Portsmouth.

“ Twelve miles,” said Nicholas, leaning with both hands
on his stick, and looking doubtfully at Smike.

“ Twelve long miles,” repeated the landlord.

“ Is it a good road? ” inquired Nicholas.

“ Very bad.” As of course, being a landlord, he would say.

“ I want to get on; I scarcely know wffiat to do.”

“ Don’t let me influence you, I wouldn’t go on if it was me.”

“ Wouldn’t you? ” asked Nicholas.

“ Not if I knew when I was well off,” said the landlord.
And having said it he pulled up his apron, put his hands
into his pockets, and, taking a step or two outside the door,
looked down the dark road with an assumption of great
indifference.

A glance at the toil-worn face of Smike determined Nicho¬
las; so without any further consideration he made up his
mind to stay where he was.

The landlord led them into the kitchen; and as there was
a good fire, he remarked that it was very cold. If there had
1 This is a good sentence to memorize.

182

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

happened to be a bad one, he would have observed that it
was very warm.

“ What can you give us for supper? ” was Nicholas’s natural
question.

“ Why — what would you like ? ”

Nicholas suggested cold meat, but there was no cold meat
— poached eggs, but there were no eggs — mutton chops,
but there wasn’t a mutton chop within three miles, though
there had been more last week than they knew what to do
with, and would be an extraordinary supply the day after
tomorrow.

“ Then I must leave it entirely to you, as I would have
done, at first, if you had allowed me,” said Nicholas.

“ Why, then, I’ll tell you what,” rejoined the landlord.
“ There’s a gentleman in the parlour that’s ordered a hot
beefsteak pudding and potatoes, at nine. There’s more of
it than he can manage, and I have very little doubt that, if
I ask leave, you can sup with him. I’ll do that, in a minute.”

“ No, no,” said Nicholas, detaining him. “ I would rather
not. I — at least — pshaw ! why cannot I speak out ? Here ;
you see that I am travelling in a very humble manner, and
have made my way hither on foot. It is more than probable,
I think, that the gentleman may not relish my company; and
although I am the dusty figure you see, I am too proud to
thrust myself into his.”

“ Lord love you,” said the landlord, “ it’s only Mr.
Crummies; he isn’t particular.”

“ Is he not ? ” asked Nicholas, on whose mind, to tell the
truth, the prospect of the savoury pudding was making some
impression.

“ Not he, he’ll like your way of talking, I know. But
we’ll soon see all about that. Just wait a minute.”

The landlord hurried into the parlour without staying for
further permission, nor did Nicholas strive to prevent him,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

183

wisely considering that supper, under the circumstances, was
too serious a matter to trifle with. It was not long before
the host returned in a condition of much excitement.

“ All right, I knew he would. You’ll see something rather
worth seeing in there. Ecod, how they are agoing of it! ”

There was no time to inquire to what this exclamation
referred, for he had already thrown open the door of the
room, into which Nicholas, followed by Smike with the
bundle on his shoulder (he carried it about with him as
vigilantly as if it had been a sack of gold), straightway re¬
paired.

Nicholas was prepared for something odd, but not for
something quite so odd as the sight he encountered. At the
upper end of the room were a couple of boys, one of them
very tall and the other very short, both dressed as sailors —
or at least as theatrical sailors, with belts, buckles, and
pistols complete — fighting what is called in playbills a
terrific combat, with two of those short broadswords with
basket hilts which are commonly used at our minor theatres.
The short boy had gained a great advantage over the tall boy,
and both were overlooked by a large heavy man, perched
against the corner of a table, who emphatically adjured them
to strike a little more fire out of the swords, and they couldn t
fail to bring the house down, on the very first night.

“ Mr. Vincent Crummies,” said the landlord with an air
of great deference. “ This is the young gentleman.”

Mr. Vincent Crummies received Nicholas with an inclina¬
tion of the head, something between the courtesy of a Roman
emperor and the nod of a pot companion, and bade the land¬
lord shut the door and be gone.

“ There’s a picture,” said Mr. Crummies, motioning Nicho¬
las not to advance and spoil it. “ The little ’un has him, if
the big ’un doesn’t knock under, in three seconds, he’s a dead
man. Do that again, boys.”

184

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The two combatants went to work afresh, and chopped
away until the swords emitted a shower of sparks, to the
great satisfaction of Mr. Crummies, who appeared to con¬
sider this a very great point indeed.

After this, there was a good deal of dodging about, and
then the short sailor (who was the moral character evidently,
for he always had the best of it) made a violent demonstra¬
tion and closed with the tall sailor, who, after a few un¬
availing struggles, went down, and expired in great torture,
as the short sailor put his foot upon his breast, and bored
a hole in him through and through.

“ That’ll be a double encore if you take care, boys,” said
Mr. Crummies. “ You had better get your wind now and
change your clothes.”

“ What do you think of that, sir? ” inquired Mr. Crummies.

“Very good, indeed — capital,” answered Nicholas.

“ You won’t see such boys as those very often, I think,”
said Mr. Crummies.

Nicholas assented — observing, that if they were a little
better match — - —

“ Match! ” cried Mr. Crummies.

“ I mean if they were a little more of a size,” said Nicholas,
explaining himself.

“ Size ! why it’s the essence of the combat that there should
be a foot or two between them. How are you to get up the
sympathies of the audience in a legitimate manner if there
isn’t a little man contending against a big one — unless
there’s at least five to one, and we haven’t hands enough for
that business in our company.”

“ I see, I beg your pardon. That didn’t occur to me, I
confess.”

“ It’s the main point. I open at Portsmouth the day after
tomorrow. If you’re going there, look into the theatre,
and see how that’ll tell.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

185

Nicholas promised to do so, if he could, and drawing a
chair near the fire, fell into conversation with the manager,
who laid open his affairs without the smallest reserve and
talked at some length upon the merits of his company and
the acquirements of his family, of both of which the two
broadsword boys formed an honourable portion. There was
to be a gathering, it seemed, of the different ladies and gentle¬
men of the theatrical company at Portsmouth on the morrow,
wdiither the father and sons were proceeding.

“ You are going that way? ” asked the manager.

“ Ye-yes, yes, I am.”

“ Do you know that town at all ? ” inquired the manager,
who seemed to consider himself entitled to the same degree
of confidence as he had himself exhibited.

“ No.”

“ Never there? ”

“ Never.”

Mr. Crummies looked from time to time with great interest
at Smike, with whom he had appeared considerably struck
from the first. He had now fallen asleep, and was nodding
in his chair.

“ Excuse my saying so,” said the manager, leaning over to
Nicholas, and sinking his voice, “ but what a capital counte¬
nance your friend has got! ”

“ Poor fellow ! I wish it were a little more plump, and
less haggard.”

“ Plump ! ” exclaimed the manager, quite horrified, “ you’d
spoil it for ever.”

“ Do you think so ? ”

“ Think so, sir! Why as he is now,” said the manager,
striking his knee emphatically ; “ without a pad upon his
body, and hardly a touch of paint upon his face, he’d make
such an actor for the starved business as was never seen in
this country. Only let him be tolerably well up in the

186

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Apothecary in Romeo and Juliet, with the slightest possible
dab of red on the tip of his nose, and he’d be certain of three
rounds the moment he put his head out.”

“ You view him with a professional eye,” said Nicholas,
laughing.

“ And well I may; I never saw a young fellow so regularly
cut out for that line since I’ve been in the profession. And I
played the heavy children when I was eighteen months old.”

The appearance of the beefsteak pudding, which came in
simultaneously with the junior Vincent Crummleses, turned
the conversation to other matters, and indeed, for a time,
stopped it altogether. These two young gentlemen wielded
their knives and forks with scarcely less address than their
broadswords; and as the whole party were quite as sharp
set as either class of weapons, there was no time for talking
until the supper had been disposed of.

The Master Crummleses had no sooner swallowed the
last morsel of food than they evinced, by various half-sup¬
pressed yawns and stretchings of their limbs, an obvious
inclination to retire for the night, which Smike had betrayed
still more strongly: he having, in the course of the meal,
fallen asleep several times while in the very act of eating.
Nicholas therefore proposed that they should break up at
once, but the manager would by no means hear of it, vowing
that he had promised himself the pleasure of inviting his new
acquaintance to share a bowl of punch and that, if he declined,
he should deem it very unhandsome behaviour.

“ Let them go,” said Mr. Vincent Crummies, “ and we’ll
have it snugly and cosily together by the fire.”

Nicholas was not much disposed to sleep — being in truth
too anxious — so, after a little demur, he accepted the offer,
and having exchanged a shake of the hand with the young
Crummleses, and the manager having on his part bestowed
a most affectionate benediction on Smike, he sat himself

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

187

down opposite to that gentleman by the fireside to assist in
emptying the bowl, which soon afterwards appeared, steaming,
in a manner which was quite exhilarating to behold and
sending forth a most grateful -and inviting fragrance.

But despite the punch and the manager, who told a variety
of stories, and smoked tobacco from a pipe, and inhaled it
in the shape of snuff with a most astonishing power, Nicholas
was absent and dispirited. His thoughts were in his old
home, and when they reverted to his present condition, the
uncertainty of the morrow cast a gloom upon him which his
utmost efforts were unable to dispel. His attention wan¬
dered. Although he heard the manager’s voice, he was deaf
to what he said; and when Mr. Vincent Crummies concluded
the history of some long adventure with a loud laugh and an
inquiry as to what Nicholas would have done under the same
circumstances, he was obliged to make the best apology in
his power and to confess the entire ignorance of all he had
been talking about.

“ Why, so I saw. You’re uneasy in your mind. What’s
the matter? ”

Nicholas could not refrain from smiling at the abruptness
of the question but, thinking it scarcely worth while to parry
it, owned that he was under some apprehensions lest he might
not succeed in the object which had brought him to that part
of the country.

“ And what’s that ? ”

“ Getting something to do which will keep me and my poor
fellow traveller in the common necessities of life. That’s the
truth. You guessed it long ago, I dare say, so I may as well
have the credit of telling it to you with a good grace.”

“ What’s to be got to do at Portsmouth more than any¬
where else ? ” asked Mr. Vincent Crummies, melting the
sealing wax on the stem of his pipe in the candle and rolling
it out afresh with his little finger.

188

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ There are many vessels leaving the port, I suppose. I
shall try for a berth in some ship or other. There is meat
and drink there, at all events.”

“ Salt meat and new rum, pease pudding and chaff bis¬
cuits,” said the manager, taking a whiff of his pipe to keep
it alight and returning to his work of embellishment.

“ One may do worse than that. I can rough it, I believe,
as well as most young men of my age and previous habits.”

“ You need be able to, if you go on board ship; but you
won’t.”

“ Why not? ” asked Nicholas.

“ Because there’s not a skipper or mate that would think
you worth your salt, when he could get a practised hand, and
they as plentiful there as the oysters in the streets.”

“ What do you mean? ” asked Nicholas, alarmed by this
prediction and the confident tone in which it had been uttered.
“ Men are not born able seamen. They must be reared, I
suppose ? ”

Mr. Vincent Crummies nodded his head. “They must;
but not at your age, or from young gentlemen like you.”

There was a pause. The countenance of Nicholas fell, and
he gazed ruefully at the fire.

“ Does no other profession occur to you, which a young
man of your figure and address could take up easily and see
the world to advantage in? ”

“ No,” said Nicholas, shaking his head.

“ Why, then, I’ll tell you one,” said Mr. Crummies, throw¬
ing his pipe into the fire and raising his voice. “ The
stage.”

“ The stage! ” cried Nicholas, in a voice almost as loud.

“ The theatrical profession. I am in the theatrical pro¬
fession myself, my wife is in the theatrical profession, my
children are in the theatrical profession. I had a dog that
lived and died in it from a puppy; and my chaise pony goes

189

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

on in Timour the Tartar. I’ll bring you out, and your friend
too. Say the word. I want a novelty.”

“ I don’t know anything about it,” rejoined Nicholas,
whose breath had been almost taken away by this sudden
proposal. “ I never acted a part in my life, except at school.”

“ There’s genteel comedy in your walk and manner, juve¬
nile tragedy in your eye, and touch-and-go farce in your laugh.
You’ll do as well as if you had thought of nothing else but
the lamps from your birth downwards.”

Nicholas thought of the small amount of small change
that would remain in his pocket after paying the tavern
bill, and he hesitated.

“ You can be useful to us in a hundred ways. Think what
capital bills a man of your education could write for the
shop windows.”

“ Well, I think I could manage that department.”

“ To be sure you could. ‘ For further particulars see small
handbills’ — we might have half a volume in every one of
’em. Pieces too; why, you could write us a piece to bring
out the whole strength of the company, whenever we wanted '
one.”

“ I am not quite so confident about that. But I dare say
I could scribble something now and then that would suit
you.”

“ We’ll have a new show piece out directly,” said the
manager. “ Let me see — peculiar resources of this estab¬
lishment — new and splendid scenery — you must manage
to introduce a real pump and two washing tubs.”

“ Into the piece ? ”

“ Yes, I bought ’em cheap at a sale the other day, and
they’ll come in admirably. That’s the London play. Then
look up some dresses and properties, and have a piece written
to fit ’em. Most of the theatres keep an author on pur¬
pose.”

190

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Indeed! ”

“ Oh, yes, a common thing. It’ll look very well in the
bills in separate lines — Real pump ! — Splendid tubs !
Great attraction! You don’t happen to be anything of an
artist, do you ? ”

“ That is not one of my accomplishments.”

“ Ah! Then it can’t be helped. If you had been, we
might have had a large woodcut of the last scene for the
posters, showing the whole depth of the stage, with the
pump and tubs in the middle; but, however, if you’re not,
it can’t be helped! ”

“ What should I get for all this? ” inquired Nicholas, after
a few moments’ reflection. “ Could I live by it? ”

“ Live by it! Like a prince! With your own salary,
and your friend’s, and your writings, you’d make — ah!
you’d make a pound a week ! ”

“ You don’t say so! ”

“ I do indeed, and if we had a run of good houses, nearly
double the money.”

Nicholas shrugged his shoulders, but sheer destitution was
before him. What if he went abroad, and his mother or Kate
were to die the while ? Without more deliberation, he hastily
declared it was a bargain, and gave Mr. Vincent Crummies
his hand upon it.

As Mr. Crummies had a strange four-legged animal in the
inn stables which he called a pony and a vehicle of unknown
design which he called a four-wheeled phaeton, Nicholas
proceeded on his journey next morning with greater ease
than he had expected, the manager and himself occupying the
front seat and the Master Crummleses and Smike being
packed together behind.

“ Many and many is the circuit this pony has gone,” said
Mr. Crummies. “ He is quite one of us. His mother was on
the stage. She ate apple pie at a circus for fourteen years,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 191

fired pistols, and went to bed in a night cap, and took the
low comedy entirely. His father was a dancer.”

“Was the father at all distinguished?” asked Nicholas.

“ Not very. He was rather a low sort of pony. The fact
is, he had been originally jobbed out by the day, and he never
quite got over his old habits. He was clever in melodrama,
too, but not very fine. When the mother died, he took the
port-wine business.”

“The port-wine business! ” exclaimed Nicholas.

“ Drinking port wine with the clown, but he was greedy,
and one night bit off the bowl of the glass, and choked him¬
self, so his vulgarity was the death of him at last.”

The descendant of this ill-starred animal requiring in¬
creased attention from Mr. Crummies as he progressed in
his day’s work, that gentleman had very little time for con¬
versation. Nicholas was thus left to entertain himself with
his own thoughts until they arrived at the drawbridge at
Portsmouth, when Mr. Crummies pulled up.

“ We’ll get down here,” said the manager, “ and the boys
will take the pony round to the stable, and call at my lodgings
with the luggage. You had better let yours be taken there,
for the present.”

Thanking Mr. Vincent Crummies for his obliging offer,
Nicholas jumped out and, giving Smike his arm, accompanied
the manager up High Street on their way to the theatre,
feeling nervous and uncomfortable enough at the prospect of
an immediate introduction to a scene so new to him.

They passed a great many bills, pasted against the walls
and displayed in windows, wherein the names of Mr. Vincent
Crummies, Mrs. Vincent Crummies, Master Crummies,
Master P. Crummies, and Miss Crummies, were printed in
very large letters, and everything else in very small ones.
Turning at length into an entry, in which was a strong smell
of orange peel and lamp oil, with an under-current of saw-

192

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

dust, they groped their way through a dark passage, de¬
scended a step or two, threaded a little maze of canvas screens
and paint-pots, and emerged upon the stage of the Ports¬
mouth Theatre.

“ Here we are,” said Mr. Crummies.

It was not very light, but Nicholas found himself close to
the first entrance on the prompt side, among bare walls,
dusty scenes, mildewed clouds, heavily daubed draperies, and
dirty floors. He looked about him. Ceiling, pit, boxes,
gallery, orchestra, fittings, and decorations -of every kind —
all looked coarse, cold, gloomy, and wretched.

“ Is this a theatre? ” whispered Smike, in amazement; “ I
thought a theatre was a blaze of light and finery.”

“ Why, so it is,” replied Nicholas, hardly less surprised ;
“ but not by day, Smike — not by day.”

The manager’s voice recalled him from a more careful in¬
spection of the building to the opposite side of the pro¬
scenium, where, at a small mahogany table with rickety legs
and of an oblong shape sat a stout, portly female, apparently
between forty and fifty, in a tarnished silk cloak, with her
bonnet dangling by the strings in her hand and her hair (of
which she had a great quantity) braided in a large festoon
over each temple.

“ Mr. Johnson,” said the manager (for Nicholas had given
this name as his own), “let me introduce Mrs. Vincent
Crummies.”

“ I am glad to see you, sir,” said Mrs. Vincent Crummies,
in a sepulchral voice. “ I am very glad to see you, and still
more happy to hail you as a promising member of our corps.”

The lady shook Nicholas by the hand as she addressed him
in these terms. He saw it was a large one, but had not
expected quite such an iron grip as that with which she
honoured him.

"And this,” said the lady, crossing to Smike, as tragic

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 193

actresses cross when they obey a stage direction, “ and this
is the other. You, too, are welcome, sir.”

“He’ll do, I think, my 'dear?” said the manager, taking
a pinch of snuff.

“He is admirable,” replied the lady; “an acquisition,
indeed.”

As Mrs. Vincent Crummies recrossed back to the table,
there bounded on to the stage from some mysterious inlet
a little girl in a dirty white frock with tucks up to the knees,
short trousers, sandaled shoes, white spencer,1 pink gauze
bonnet, green veil, and curl papers, who turned a pirouette,
cut twice in the air, turned another pirouette, then, looking
off at the opposite wing, shrieked, bounded forward to within
six inches of the footlights, and fell into a beautiful attitude
of terror, as a shabby gentleman in an old pair of buff slippers
came in at one powerful slide and, chattering his teeth,
fiercely brandished a walking stick.

“ They are going through The Indian Savage and the
Maiden ,” said Mrs. Crummies.

“ Oh ! ” said the manager, “ the little ballet interlude.
Very good, go on. A little this way, if you please, Mr. John¬
son. That’ll do. Now! ”

The manager clapped his hands as a signal to proceed, and
the savage, becoming ferocious, made a slide towards the
maiden; but the maiden avoided him in six twirls, and came
down, at the end of the last one, upon the very points of her
toes. This seemed to make some impression upon the savage ;
for, after a little more ferocity and chasing of the maiden into
corners, he began to relent, and stroked his face several times
with his right thumb and four fingers, thereby intimating that
he was struck with admiration of the maiden’s beauty.
Acting upon the impulse of this passion, he (the savage)
began to hit himself severe thumps in the chest and to exhibit

1 A closet fitting jacket.

194 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

other indications of being desperately in love, which being
rather a prosy proceeding, was very likely the cause of the
maiden’s falling asleep. Whether it was or no, asleep she
did fall, sound as a church, on a sloping bank, and the savage
perceiving it, leaned his left ear on his left hand, and nodded
sideways, to intimate to all whom it might concern that she
was asleep, and no shamming. Being left to himself, the
savage had a dance, all alone. Just as he left off, the maiden
woke up, rubbed her eyes, got off the bank, and had a dance
all alone too — such a dance that the savage looked on in
ecstasy all the while; and when it was done, plucked from a
neighbouring tree some botanical curiosity, resembling a small
pickled cabbage, and offered it to the maiden, who at first
wouldn’t have it, but, on the savage’s shedding tears, relented.
Then the savage jumped for joy; then the maiden jumped
for rapture at the sweet smell of the pickled cabbage. Then
the savage and the maiden danced violently together, and,
finally, the savage dropped down on one knee, and the
maiden stood on one leg upon his other knee, thus concluding
the ballet and leaving the spectators in a state of pleasing
uncertainty, whether she would ultimately marry the savage,
or return to her friends.

“ Very well indeed,” said Mr. Crummies; “bravo! ”

“ Bravo ! ” cried Nicholas, resolved to make the best of
everything. “Beautiful!”

“This, sir,” said Mr. Vincent Crummies, bringing the
maiden forward, “this is the infant phenomenon — Miss
Ninetta Crummies.”

“ Your daughter? ”

“ My daughter — my daughter, the idol of every place we
go into, sir. We have had complimentary letters about this
girl, sir, from the nobility and gentry of almost every town
in England.”

“ I am not surprised at that; she must be quite a genius.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

195

“ Quite a - ! ” Mr. Crummies stopped: language was

not powerful enough to describe that infant phenomenon.
“ I’ll tell you what, sir,” he said; “ the talent of this child is
not to be imagined. She must be seen, sir — seen — to be
ever so faintly appreciated. There; go to your mother, my
dear.”

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” said Mr. Vincent Crummies, who
had been writing on a piece of paper, “ we’ll call The Mortal
Struggle tomorrow at ten; everybody for the procession.
Intrigue and Ways and Means, you’re all up in, so we shall
only want one rehearsal. Everybody at ten, if you please.”

“ 0n Monday morning we shall read a new piece,” said
Mr. Crummies; “ the name’s not known yet, but everybody
will have a good part. Mr. Johnson will take care of that.”

“ Hallo ! ” said Nicholas, starting. “ I - ”

“ On Monday morning,” repeated Mr. Crummies, raising
his voice, to drown the unfortunate Mr. Johnson’s remon¬
strance; “that’ll do, ladies and gentlemen.”

The ladies and gentlemen required no second notice to
quit ; and in a few minutes, the theatre was deserted, save by
the Crummies family, Nicholas, and Smike.

“ Upon my word,” said Nicholas, taking the manager aside,
“ I don’t think I can be ready by Monday.”

“ Pooh, pooh.”

“ But really I can’t. My invention is not accustomed to
these demands, or possibly I might produce - ”

“Invention! what the devil’s that got to do with it! ”
cried the manager, hastily.

“ Everything, my dear sir.”

“ Nothing, my dear sir,” retorted the manager, with evi¬
dent impatience. “ Do you understand French ? ”

“ Perfectly well.”

“ Very good,” said the manager, opening the table drawer
and giving a roll of paper from it to Nicholas. “ There !

196 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Just turn that into English, and put your name on the title
page.”

Nicholas smiled and pocketed the play.

“ What are you going to do about your lodgings?” said
Mr. Crummies.

Nicholas could not help thinking that, for the first week,
it would be an uncommon convenience to have a turn-up
bedstead in the pit, but he merely remarked that he had not
turned his thoughts that way.

“ Come home with me, then, and my boys shall go with you
after dinner and show you the most likely place.”

The offer was not to be refused; Nicholas and Mr.
Crummies gave Mrs. Crummies an arm each and walked up
the street in stately array. Smike, the boys, and the Phe¬
nomenon went home by a shorter cut.

Mr. Crummies lived in Saint Thomas’s Street at the house
of a pilot, who sported a boat-green door with window frames
of the same colour, and had the little finger of a drowned
man on his parlour mantel shelf, with other maritime and
natural curiosities. He displayed also a brass knocker, a
brass plate, and a brass bell handle, all very bright and
shining; and had a mast, with a vane on the top of it, in his
back yard.

“ You are welcome,” said Mrs. Crummies, turning round
to Nicholas when they reached the bow-windowed front room
on the first floor.

' Nicholas bowed his acknowledgments and was unfeignedly
glad to see the cloth laid.

“ We have but a shoulder of mutton with onion sauce,” said
Mrs. Crummies, in the same charnel-house voice; “ but such
as our dinner is, we beg you to partake of it.”

“ You are very good, I shall do it ample justice.”

“ Vincent,” said Mrs. Crummies, “ what is the hour? ”

“ Five minutes past dinner time.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 197

Mrs. Crummies rang the bell. “ Let the mutton and onion
sauce appear.”

The servant who attended disappeared, and after a short
interval reappeared with the festive banquet. Nicholas and
the infant phenomenon opposed each other at the pembroke
table,1 and Smike and the Master Crummleses dined on the
sofa bedstead.

“ Are they very theatrical people here? ” asked Nicholas.

“ No,” replied Mr. Crummies, shaking his head, “ far from
it — far from it.”

“ I pity them,” observed Mrs. Crummies.

“ So do I,” said Nicholas, “ if they have no relish for
theatrical entertainments, properly conducted.”

“ Then they have none, sir,” rejoined Mr. Crummies.
“ To the infant’s benefit last year, on which occasion she
repeated three of her most popular characters, and also
appeared in The Fairy Porcupine, as originally performed
by her, there was a house of no more than four pound twelve.”

“ Is it possible? ” cried Nicholas.

“ And two pound of that was trust, pa,” said the Phe¬
nomenon.

“And two pounds of that was trust,” repeated Mr.
Crummies. “ Mrs. Crummies herself has played to mere
handfuls.”

“ But they are always a taking audience, Vincent,” said
the manager’s wife.

“ Most audiences are, when they have good acting — real
good acting — the regular thing,” replied Mr. Crummies,
forcibly.

“ Do you give lessons, ma’am? ” inquired Nicholas.

“ I do.”

“ There is no teaching here, I suppose ? ”

“ There has been; I have received pupils here. I imparted
1 A table with drop leaves.

198

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

tuition to the daughter of a dealer in ships’ provision ; but it
afterwards appeared that she was insane when she first came
to me. It was very extraordinary that she should come,
under such circumstances.”

Not feeling quite so sure of that, Nicholas thought it best
to hold his peace.

“Let me see,” said the manager cogitating after dinner.
“ Would you like some nice little part with the infant? ”

“You are very good,” replied Nicholas, hastily; “but I
think perhaps it would be better if I had somebody of my own
size at first, in case I should turn out awkward. I should
feel more at home perhaps.”

“ True, perhaps you would. And you could play up to
the infant, in time, you know.”

“ Certainly,” replied Nicholas, devoutly hoping that it
would be a very long time before he was honoured with this
distinction.

“ Then I’ll tell you what we’ll do,” said Mr. Crummies.
“ You shall study Romeo when you’ve done that piece — don’t
forget to throw the pump and tubs in by the by — yes, that’ll
do very well. Rover too — you might get up Rover while
you were about it, and Cassio, and Jeremy Diddler. You
can easily knock them off; one part helps the other so much.
Here they are, cues and all.”

With these hasty general directions Mr. Crummies thrust
a number of little books into the faltering hands of Nicholas
and, bidding his eldest son go with him and show where
lodgings were to be had, shook him by the hand, and wished
him good night.

There is no lack of comfortable furnished apartments in
Portsmouth, and no difficulty in finding some that are pro¬
portionate to very slender finances; but the former were
too good, and the latter too bad, and they went into so many
houses and came out unsuited, that Nicholas seriously began

199

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

to think he should be obliged to ask permission to spend
the night in the theatre, after all.

Eventually, however, they stumbled upon two small rooms
up three pair of stairs, or rather two pair and a ladder, at
a tobacconist’s shop, on the Common Hard, a dirty street
leading down to the dockyard. These Nicholas engaged,
only too happy to have escaped any request for payment
of a week’s rent beforehand.

“ There! Lay down our personal property, Smike,” he
said, after showing young Crummies downstairs. “ We
have fallen upon strange times, and heaven only knows
the end of them, but I am tired with the events of these
three days and will postpone reflection till tomorrow — if I
can.”

Nicholas was up early in the morning; but he had scarcely
begun to dress when he heard footsteps ascending the stairs,
and was presently saluted by the voices of Mr. Folair the
pantomimist and Mr. Lenville the tragedian, two important
actors in Mr. Crummies’s company whom Nicholas had met
the day before.

“ House, house, house ! ” cried Mr. Folair.

“What, ho! within there! ” said Mr. Lenville, in a deep
voice.

“ Confound these fellows! ” thought Nicholas; “ they have
come to breakfast, I suppose. “ I’ll open the door directly,
if you’ll wait an instant.”

The gentlemen entreated him not to hurry himself and, to
beguile the interval, had a fencing bout with their walking
sticks on the very small landing place to the unspeakable
discomposure of all the other lodgers downstairs.

“ Here, come in,” said Nicholas, when he had completed
his dressing. “ In the name of all that’s horrible, don’t make
that noise outside.”

“An uncommon snug little box this,” said Mr. Lenville,

200

NICHOLAS. NICKLEBY

stepping into the front room, and taking his hat off, before
he could get in at all. “ Pernicious snug.”

“For a man at all particular in such matters, it might be
a trifle too snug,” said Nicholas; “for although it is, un¬
doubtedly, a great convenience to be able to reach anything
you want from the ceiling or the floor, or either side of the
room, without having to move from your chair, still these
advantages can only be had in an apartment of the most
limited size.”

“ It isn’t a bit too confined for a single man,” returned Mr.
Lenville. “That reminds me — my wife, Mr. Johnson, —
I hope she’ll have some good part in this piece of
yours.”

“ I glanced at the French copy last night,” said Nicholas.
“ It looks very good, I think.”

“ What do you mean to do for me, old fellow ? ” asked
Mr. Lenville, poking the struggling fire with his walking
stick, and afterwards wiping it on the skirt of his coat.
“ Anything in the gruff and grumble way ? ”

“ You turn your wife and child out of doors,” said Nicholas;
“and in a fit of rage and jealousy stab your eldest son in
the library.”

“Do I though! ” exclaimed Mr. Lenville. “That’s very
good business.”

“ After which you are troubled with remorse till the last
act, and then you make up your mind to destroy yourself.
But, just as you are raising the pistol to your head, a clock
strikes — ten.”

“ I see,” cried Mr. Lenville. “ Very good.”

“You pause, you recollect to have heard a clock strike
ten in your infancy. The pistol falls from your hand —
you are overcome — you burst into tears, and become a
virtuous and exemplary character for ever afterwards.”

“Capital! ” said Mr. Lenville. “That’s a sure card, a

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 201

sure card. Get the curtain down, with a touch of nature like
that, and it’ll be a triumphant success.”

“ Is there anything good for me?” inquired Mr. Folair,
anxiously.

“ Let me see,” said Nicholas. “ You play the faithful and
attached servant; you are turned out of doors with the wife
and child.”

“ Always coupled with that infernal Phenomenon,” sighed
Mr. Folair; “and we go into poor lodgings where I won’t
take any wages and talk sentiment, I suppose ? ”

“ Why — yes,” replied Nicholas : “ that is the course of
the piece.”

“ I must have a dance of some kind, you know,” said Mr.
Folair. “ You’ll have to introduce one for the Phenomenon,
so you’d better make a pas de deux, arid save time.”

“ There’s nothing easier than that,” said Mr. Lenville,
observing the disturbed looks of the young dramatist.

“ Upon my word I don’t see how it’s to be done,” rejoined
Nicholas.

“ Why, isn’t it obvious? ” reasoned Mr. Lenville. “ Gad-
zooks, who can help seeing the way to do it ? — you astonish
me! You get the distressed lady, and the little child, and
the attached servant into the poor lodgings, don’t you? —
Well, look here. The distressed lady sinks into a chair and
buries her face in her pocket handkerchief — ‘ What makes
you weep, mama? ’ says the child. ' Don’t weep, mama, or
you’ll make me weep too ! ’ — e And me ! ’ says the faithful
servant, rubbing his eyes with his arm. ‘ What can we do to
raise your spirits, dear mama? ’ says the little child. ‘ Aye,
what can we do? ’ says the faithful servant. ' Oh, Pierre! ’
says the distressed lady; ‘ would that I could shake off these
painful thoughts.’ — 'Try, ma’am, try,’ says the faithful
servant; * rouse yourself, ma’am; be amused.’ — 1 1 will,’ says
the lady, ' I will learn to suffer with fortitude. Do you re-

202

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

member that dance, my honest friend, which in happier days
you practised with this sweet angel? It never failed to calm
my spirits then. Oh! let me see it once again before I die! ’
— There it is (cue for the band) before I die — and off they
go. That’s the regular thing; isn’t it, Tommy? ”

“ That’s it,” replied Mr. Folair. “ The distressed lady,
overpowered by old recollections, faints at the end of the
dance, and you close it with a picture.”

Profiting by these and other lessons, which were the result
of the personal experience of the two actors, Nicholas willingly
gave them the best breakfast he could; and when he at
length got rid of them, applied himself to his task, pleased
to find that it was so much easier than he had at first sup¬
posed. He worked very hard all day and did not leave his
room until the evening, when he went down to the theatre,
whither Smike had repaired, before him to go on with an¬
other gentleman as a general rebellion.

At last, the orchestra left off, and the curtain rose upon
the new piece. The first scene, in which there was nobody
particular, passed off calmly enough, but when Nicholas
came on for his crack scene with Mrs. Crummies, what a
clapping of hands there was! When Mrs. Crummies (who
was his unworthy mother) sneered, and called him “ pre¬
sumptuous boy,” and he defied her, what a tumult of applause
came on! When he quarreled with the other gentleman
about the young lady and, producing a case of pistols, said
that, if he was a gentleman, he would fight him in that
drawing-room until the furniture was sprinkled with blood
of one, if not of two — how boxes, pit, and gallery joined in
one most vigorous cheer ! When he called his mother names,
because she wouldn’t give up the young lady’s property, and
she, relenting, caused him to relent likewise and fall down
on one knee and ask her blessing, how the ladies in the audi¬
ence sobbed! When he was hid behind the curtain in the

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

203

dark and the wicked relation poked a sharp sword in every
direction, save where his legs were plainly visible, what a
thrill of anxious fear ran through the house! His air, his
figure, his walk, his look, everything he said or did, was the
subject of commendation. There was. a round of applause
every time he spoke. And when, at last, in the pump-and-
tub scene, the blue fire was lighted and all the unemployed
members of the company came in and tumbled down in
various directions — not because that had anything to do
with the plot, but in order to finish off with a tableau — the
audience (who had by this time increased considerably) gave
vent to such a shout of enthusiasm as had not been heard in
those walls for many and many a day.

The new piece, being a decided hit, was announced for every
evening of the performance until further notice, and the
evenings when the theatre was closed were reduced from
three in the week to two. Nor were these the only tokens
of extraordinary success, for on the succeeding Saturday
Nicholas received thirty shillings.

They began making preparations to play Romeo and
Juliet. Nicholas, having to play Romeo for the first time
on the ensuing evening, contrived to slip away in the midst
of a temporary confusion. To this act of desertion he was
led not only by his own inclinations but by his anxiety on
account of Smike, who, having to sustain the character of the
Apothecary, had been as yet wholly unable to get any more
of the part into his head than the general idea that he was
very hungry, which — perhaps from old recollections — he
had acquired with great aptitude.

“ I don’t know what’s to be done, Smike,” said Nicholas,
laying down the book. “ I am afraid you can’t learn it, my
poor fellow.”

“ I am afraid not,” said Smike, shaking his head. “ I think
if y0U — but that would give you so much trouble.”

204

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“What? Never mind me.”

“ I think, if you were to keep saying it to me in little bits,
over and over again, I should be able to recollect it from
hearing you.”

“ Do you think so ! Well said. Let us see who tires first.
Not I, Smike, trust me. Now then. 1 Who calls so loud? 1 ”

“ ‘ Who calls so loud ? ’ ” said Smike.

“'Who calls so loud?’” repeated Nicholas.

“ ' Who calls so loud? 1 ” cried Smike.

Thus they continued to ask each other who called so loud
over and over again; and when Smike had that by heart,
Nicholas went to another sentence, and so on, until at mid¬
night poor Smike found to his unspeakable joy that he really
began to remember something about the text.

Early in the morning they went to it again, and Smike,
rendered more confident by the progress he had already made,
got on faster and with better heart. As soon as he began to
acquire the words pretty freely, Nicholas showed him how low
he must come in with both hands spread out upon his stomach,
and how he must occasionally rub it, in compliance with the
established form by which people on the stage always denote
that they want something to eat. After the morning’s re¬
hearsal they went to work again, nor did they stop, except
for a hasty dinner, until it was time to go to the theatre at
night.

Never had master a more anxious, humble, docile pupil.
Never had pupil a more patient, unwearying, considerate,
kind-hearted master.

As soon as they were dressed, and at every interval when
he was hot upon the stage, Nicholas renewed his instructions.
They prospered well. The Romeo was received with hearty
plaudits and unbounded favour, and Smike was pronounced
unanimously, alike by audience and actors, the very prince
and prodigy of Apothecaries.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

205

CHAPTER XV

THE agitation she had undergone rendered Kate Nickleby
unable to resume her duties at the dressmaker’s for three
days, at the expiration of which interval she went at the
accustomed hour with languid steps to the temple of fashion
where Madame Mantalini reigned paramount and supreme.

The ill will of Miss Knag had lost nothing of its virulence
meantime. The young ladies still scrupulously shrank from
all companionship with their denounced associate; and when
that exemplary female, Miss Knag, arrived a few minutes
afterwards, she was at no pains to conceal the displeasure
with which she regarded Kate’s return.

“ Upon my word! ” said Miss Knag, as the satellites
flocked round to relieve her of her bonnet and shawl; “I
should have thought some people would have had spirit
enough to stop away altogether, when they know what an
incumbrance their presence is to right-minded persons. But
. it’s a queer world; oh! it’s a queer world! ”

“ Well, Miss Nickleby, child,” said Madame Mantalini,
when Kate presented herself; “are you quite well again?”
“ A great deal better, thank you.”

“ I wish I could say the same.”

“ Are you ill? I am very sorry for that.”

“Not exactly ill, but worried, child — worried.”

“ I am still more sorry to hear that; bodily illness is more
easy to bear than mental.”

“Ah! and it’s much easier to talk than to bear either,”
said madame, rubbing her nose with much irritability of
manner. “There, get to your work, child, and put the
things in order, do.”

While Kate was wondering within herself what these
symptoms of unusual vexations meant, Mr. Mantalini put

206

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

the tips of his whiskers, and, by degrees, his head, through
the half-opened door, and cried in a soft voice —

“ Is my life and soul there ? ”

“ No,” replied his wife.

“ How can it say so, when it is blooming in the front room
like a little rose in a demnition flower pot. May its Poppet
come in and talk? ”

“ Certainly not. You know I never allow you here. Go
along! ”

The Poppet, however, encouraged perhaps by the relent¬
ing tone of this reply, ventured to rebel and, stealing into
the room, made towards Madame Mantalini on tiptoes, blow¬
ing her a kiss as he came along.

“ Why will it vex itself and twist its little face into be¬
witching nutcrackers? ” said Mantalini, putting his left arm
round the waist of his life and soul, and drawing her towards
him with his right.

“ Oh! I can’t bear you,” said his wife.

“Not — eh, not bear me! Fibs, fibs. It couldn’t be.
There’s not a woman alive that could tell me such a thing to «
my face — to my own face.” Mr. Mantalini stroked his
chin as he said this and glanced complacently at an opposite
mirror.

“ Such destructive extravagance,” resumed his wife, in
a low tone.

“ All in its joy at having gained such a lovely creature,
such a little Venus, such a demd, enchanting, bewitching, en¬
grossing, captivating little Venus.”

“ See what a situation you have placed me in! ” she urged.

“No harm will come, no harm shall come, to its own darling.

It is all over; there will be nothing the matter; money shall
be got in, and if it don’t come in fast enough, old Nickleby
shall stump up again, or have his jugular separated if he

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

207

dares to vex and hurt the little - ” Mr. Mantalini dis¬

posed of all the accusations of his wife with kisses, and they
went upstairs to breakfast very happily.

Kate was busy arranging the room when she was startled
by two officers suddenly entering, who came to collect Mr.
Mantalini’s bills or take the furniture of the establishment.
He had spent all the cash of his wife and had then borrowed
on the furniture.

Poor Madame Mantalini wrung her hands for grief and
rang the bell for her husband; which done she fell into a
chair and a fainting fit. Mr. Mantalini sauntered in, thrust
his hands down to the bottom of his pockets, whistled a bar
or two, swore an oath or two and, sitting astride upon a chair,
asked with great composure,

“ What’s the demd total? ”

“ Fifteen hundred and twenty-seven pound, four and nine-
pence ha’ penny,” said one of the officers.

“ The halfpenny be demd,” said Mr. Mantalini, impa¬
tiently.

“ By all means, if you wish it, and the ninepence too,”
said the same officer.

“ It don’t matter to us if the fifteen hundred and twenty-
seven pound went along with it, that I know on,” observed the
other officer.

“ Not a button,” said his companion. “ Wot’s to be done
— anything? Is it only a small crack, or a out-and-out
smash? A break-up of the constitution is it — werry good.
Wot’s the good of the lady af retting herself? ” as Madame
Mantalini sobbed. “ A good half of wot’s here isn’t paid for,
I des-say, and wot a consolation oughtn’t that to be to her
feelings! ”

With these remarks both officers proceeded to take an
inventory of everything in the place.

208

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ My cup of happiness’s sweetener,” said Mantalini, ap¬
proaching his wife.

“ Oh ! don’t speak to me ! ” replied his wife sobbing. “ You
have ruined me, and that’s enough ! ”

Mr. Mantalini, who had doubtless well considered his part,
no sooner heard these words pronounced in a tone of grief
and severity than he recoiled several paces, assumed an ex¬
pression of mental agony, rushed headlong from the room,
and was soon afterwards heard to slam the door of an up¬
stairs dressing room with great violence.

“ Miss Nickleby,” cried Madame Mantalini, when this
sound met her ear, “ hurry, for heaven’s sake; he will destroy
himself ! I spoke unkindly to him, and he cannot bear it from
me. Alfred, my darling Alfred.”

With such exclamations, she hurried upstairs, followed by
Kate, who, although she did not quite participate in the
fond wife’s apprehensions, was a little flurried, neverthe¬
less. The dressing-room door being hastily flung open, Mr.
Mantalini was disclosed to view, with his shirt collar thrown
back, putting a fine edge to a breakfast knife by means of
his razor strop.

“Ah! ” cried Mr. ^Mantalini, “interrupted! ” and whisk
went the breakfast knife into Mr. Mantalini’s dressing-gown
pocket, while Mr. Mantalini’s eyes rolled wildly and his hair
floating in wild disorder, mingled with his whiskers.

“ Alfred,” cried his wife, flinging her arms about him, “ I
didn’t mean to say it, I didn’t mean to say it! ”

“ Ruined ! Have I brought ruin upon the best and purest
creature that ever blest a demnition vagabond! Demmit,
let me go.” At the crisis of his ravings Mr. Mantalini made
a pluck at the breakfast knife and, being restrained by
his wife’s grasp, attempted to dash his head against
the wall — taking very good care to be at least six feet from it.

“ Compose yourself, my own angel,” said madame. “ It

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 209

was nobody’s fault; it was mine as much as yours; we shall
do very well yet. Come, Alfred, come.”

Mr. Mantalini did not think proper to come to, all at once;
but after calling several times for poison and requesting some
lady or gentleman to blow his brains out, gentler feelings
came upon him, and he wept pathetically. In this softened
frame of mind he did not oppose the capture of the knife —
which, to tell the truth, he was rather glad to be rid of, as
an inconvenient and dangerous article for a pocket — and
finally he allowed himself to be led away by his affectionate
partner.

After a delay of two or three hours, the young ladies were
informed that their services would be dispensed with until
further notice, and at the expiration of two days, the name
of Mantalini appeared in the list of bankrupts. Miss
Nickleby received an intimation through the post-office on
the same morning that the business would be, in future, carried
on under the name of Miss Knag and that her assistance
would no longer be required.

“ Well, mama,” said Kate, “ what would you recommend
now? ”

“ Recommend! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby. “ Isn’t it obvious,
my dear that of all occupations in this world for a young
lady situated as you are that of companion to some amiable
lady is the very thing for which your education, and manners,
and personal appearance, and everything else, exactly qualify
you?”

The truth then came out. Mrs. Nickleby had that very
morning seen an advertisement in the newspaper, announcing
that a married lady was in want of a genteel young person
as companion.

“ And I say,” exclaimed Mrs. Nickleby, laying the paper
down in triumph, “ that if your uncle don’t object, it’s well
worth the trial.”

210

NI.CHOLAS NICKLEBY

Mr. Ralph Nickleby offered no objections but, on the
contrary, highly approved of the suggestion; neither did he
express any great surprise at Mantalini’s sudden failure;
indeed, it would have been strange if he had, inasmuch as it
had been procured and brought about chiefly by himself.
So Miss Nickleby and her mother went off in quest of the
woman who had advertised for a companion.

At Mrs. Witterly’s door Kate Nickleby knocked with a
trembling hand. The door was opened by a big footman
with his head floured, or chalked, or painted in some way
(it didn’t look genuine powder). Receiving the card of
introduction he gave it to a little page, so little, indeed, that
his body would not hold, in ordinary array, the number of
small buttons which are indispensable to a page’s costume;
and they were consequently obliged to be stuck on four
abreast. This young gentleman took the card upstairs on a
salver and, pending his return, Kate and her mother were
shown into a dining room of rather dirty and shabby aspect,
and so comfortably arranged as to be adapted to almost
any purpose rather than eating and drinking.

Mrs. Witterly gave audience in the drawing-room, where
was everything proper and necessary, including curtains and
furniture of a roseate hue to shed a delicate bloom on Mrs.
Witterly’s complexion, and a little dog to snap at stranger’s
legs for Mrs. Witterly’s amusement, and the page to hand
chocolate for Mrs. Witterly’s refreshment. The lady had
a face of sweet insipidity and engaging paleness. There was
a faded look about her, and about the furniture, and about
the house. She was reclining on a sofa in such a very un¬
studied attitude that she might have been taken for an
actress all ready for the first scene in a ballet and only wait¬
ing for the drop curtain to go up.

“ Place chairs.”

The page placed them.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

211

“ Leave the room, Alphonse.”

The page left it; but if ever an Alphonse carried plain
Bill in his face and figure, that page was the boy.

“ I have ventured to call from having seen your advertise¬
ment,” said Kate, after a few seconds of awkward silence.

“ Yes, one of my people put it in the paper — yes.”

“ I thought, perhaps, that if you had not already made a
final choice, you would forgive me for troubling you with an
application.”

“ Yes,” drawled Mrs. Witterly again.

“ If you have, already made a selection - ”

“ 0 dear no, I am not so easily suited. I really don’t know
what to sav. You have never been a companion before, have
you?”

Mrs. Nickleby, who had been eagerly watching her oppor¬
tunity, answered before Kate could reply, “ Not to any
stranger, ma’am, but she has been a companion to me for some
years. I am her mother.”

“Oh! I apprehend you,” said Mrs. Witterly.

“ I assure you, ma’am,” said Mrs. Nickleby, “ that I very
little thought at one time that it would be necessary for my
daughter to go out into the world at all. Her poor dear
papa was an independent gentleman and would have been
at this moment if he had but listened to my constant en¬
treaties and - ”

“ Dear mama,” said Kate in a low voice.

“ My dear Kate, if you will allow me to speak, I shall take
the liberty of explaining to this lady - ”

“ I think it is almost unnecessary, mama.”

And notwithstanding all the frowns and winks with which
Mrs. Nickleby intimated that she was going to say something
which would clinch the business at once, Kate maintained
her point by an expressive look and for once Mrs. Nickleby
was stopped upon the brink of an oration.

212

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ What are your accomplishments? ” asked Mrs. Witterly,
with her eyes shut.

Kate mentioned her principal acquirements, and Mrs.
Nickleby checked them all off, one by one, on her fingers,
having calculated the number before she came in. Luckily
the two calculations agreed, so Mrs. Nickleby had no excuse
for talking.

“You have a good disposition?” asked Mrs. Witterly,
opening her eyes for an instant, and shutting them again.

“ I hope so.”

“ And have a highly respectable reference for everything,
have you ? ”

Kate replied that she had, and laid her uncle’s card upon
the table.

“ Have the goodness to draw your chair a little nearer,
and let me look at you; I am so very near-sighted that I
can’t quite discern your features.”

Kate complied, though with some embarrassment, and •
Mrs. Witterly took a languid survey of her countenance,
which lasted two or three minutes.

“ I like your countenance,” said the lady, ringing a little
bell. “ Alphonse, request your master to come here.”

The page disappeared on this errand, and after a short
interval, during which not a word was spoken on either side,
opened the door for an important gentleman of about eight-
and-thirty, with a very light head of hair, who leaned over
Mrs. Witterly for a little time and conversed with her in
whispers.

“ Oh,” he said, turning round, “ yes. This is a most im¬
portant matter. Mrs. Witterly is of a very excitable nature,
very delicate, very fragile, a hothouse plant, an exotic.”

“ Oh! Henry, my dear,” interposed Mrs. Witterly.

“ You are, my love, you know you are; one breath - ”

said Mr. Witterly, blowing an imaginary feather away.

“ Pho ! you’re gone ! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

213

The lady sighed.

“ Your soul is too large for your body,” said Mr. Witterly.
“ Your intellect wears you out; all the medical men say so.
There is not a physician who is not proud of being called in
to you. What is their unanimous declaration? ‘ My dear
doctor/ said I to Doctor Snuffim, in this very room, the very
last time he came. ‘What is my wife’s complaint? Tell
me all. I can bear it. Is it nerves? ’ ‘ My dear fellow/ he
said, ‘ be proud of that woman; make much of her. She is
an ornament to the fashionable world. Her complaint is
soul. It swells, expands, dilates — the blood fires, the pulse
quickens, the excitement increases ’ — Whew ! ” Here Mr.
Witterly, who had flourished his right hand to within some¬
thing less than an inch of Mrs. Nickleby ’s bonnet, drew it
hastily back again, and blew his nose as fiercely as if it had
been done by some violent machinery.

It was finally arranged that a decisive answer should be
sent to Miss Nickleby within two days. The page then
showed them down as far as the staircase window, and the
big footman, relieving guard at that point, piloted them in
perfect safety to the street door.

“ They are very distinguished people, evidently,” said Mrs.
Nickleby, as she took her daughter’s arm.

“ Do you think so, mama ? ” was all Kate’s reply.

The answer — not to Kate’s great joy — was favourable;
and at the expiration of a week she went, with all her movables
and valuables, to Mrs. Witterly’s mansion.

CHAPTER XVI

THE place was a handsome suite of private apartments
in Regent street: the time was three o’clock in the
afternoon: the persons were Lord Frederick Verisopht, and
his friend Sir Mulberry Hawk. A couple of billiard balls

214

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

all mud and dirt, two battered hats, a champagne bottle with
a soiled glove twisted round the neck, a broken cane, a card
case without the top, an empty purse, a watch guard snapped
asunder, a handful of silver, mingled with fragments of half-
smoked cigars, and their stale and crumbled ashes — these
and many other tokens of riot and disorder hinted at the
nature of last night’s gentlemanly frolics.

Lord Frederick Verisopht was the first to speak. Drop¬
ping his slippered feet on the ground and yawning heavily,
he struggled into a sitting posture and turned his dull languid
eyes towards his friend, to whom he called in a drowsy voice.

“ Hallo ! ” replied Sir Mulberry, turning round.

“Are we going to lie here all da-a-y? ’’ said the lord.

“ I don’t know that we’re fit for anything else yet awhile,
at least. I haven’t a grain of life in me this morning.”

“ Life ! I feel as if there would be nothing so snug and
comfortable as to die at once.”

“ Then why don’t you die ? ” said Sir Mulberry Hawk.

With which inquiry he turned his face away and seemed
to occupy himself in an attempt to fall asleep.

His hopeful friend and pupil drew a chair to the break¬
fast table and tried to eat but, finding that impossible, lounged
to the window, then loitered up and down the room with his
hand to his fevered head, and finally threw himself again on
his sofa, and roused his friend once more.

“ What the devil’s the matter ? ” groaned Sir Mulberry,
sitting upright on the couch.

Although Sir Mulberry said this with ill humour, he did
not seem to feel himself quite at liberty to remain silent; for
after stretching himself very often, and declaring with a
shiver that it was “ infernal cold,” he made an experiment
at the breakfast table, and proving more successful than his
less-seasoned friend, remained there.

“ Suppose,” said Sir Mulberry, pausing with a morsel on

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 215

the point of his fork, “ suppose we go back to the subject
of little Nickleby, eh ? ”

“ Which little Nickleby; the money lender or the ga-a-1? ”

“ You take me, I see. The girl, of course.”

“ You promised me you’d find her out,” said Lord Fred¬
erick.

“ So I did, but I have thought further of the matter since
then. You distrust me in the business — you shall find her
out yourself.”

“ Na-ay.”

“ But I say yes; you shall find her out yourself. Don’t
think that I mean, when you can — I know as well as you
that, if I did, you could never get sight of her without me.
No. I say you shall find her out — shall — and I’ll put you
in the way.”

“ Now, curse me, if you ain’t a real, deyvlish, downright
friend.”

“ I’ll tell you how. She was at that dinner as a bait for
you,” said Sir Mulberry.

“No! What the dey - ”

“ As a bait for ypu; old Nickleby told me so himself.”

“ What a fine old cock it is! A noble rascal! ” said Lord
Frederick.

“ Yes, he knew she was a smart little creature - ”

“Smart! Upon my soul, Hawk, she’s a perfect beauty
_ a — picture, a statue, a — a — upon my soul she is ! ”

“ Well,” replied Sir Mulberry, shrugging his shoulders and
manifesting an indifference, whether he felt it or not; “ that s
a matter of taste; if mine doesn’t agree with yours, so much
the better.”

“ Confound it ! You were thick enough with her that day,
anyhow. I could hardly get in a word.

“Well enough for once, well enough for once, but not
worth the trouble of being agreeable to again. If you seri-

216

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

ously want to follow up the niece, tell the uncle that you
must know where she lives and how she lives, and with whom,
or you are no longer a customer of his. He’ll tell you fast
enough.”

“Why didn’t you say this before?”

“ I didn’t know it, in the first place,” answered Sir Mul¬
berry carelessly; “ and in the second, I didn’t believe you
were so very much in earnest.”

(Now, the truth was that, in the interval which had
elapsed since the dinner at Ralph Nickleby’s, Sir Mulberry
Hawk had been trying by every means in his power to dis¬
cover where Kate had disappeared.)

Thus reasoned Sir Mulberry, and in pursuance of this
reasoning he and his friend soon afterward repaired to Ralph
Nickleby’s, there to execute a plan of operations made by
Sir Mulberry himself, avowedly to promote his friend’s
object, but really to attain his own.

They found Ralph at home, and alone. As he led them
into the drawing-room, the recollection of the scene which
had taken place there seemed to occur to him, for he cast a
curious look at Sir Mulberry, who bestowed upon him no
other acknowledgment than a careless smile.

They had a short conference upon some money matters
then in progress, which were scarcely disposed of when the
lordly dupe (in pursuance of his friend’s instructions) re¬
quested with some embarrassment to speak to Ralph alone.

“ Alone, eh? ” cried Sir Mulberry, affecting surprise. “ Oh,
very good. I’ll walk into the next room here. Don’t keep
me long, that’s all.”

So saying, Sir Mulberry took up his hat, and humming a
fragment of a song disappeared through the door of com¬
munication between the two drawing-rooms and closed it
after him.

“ Now, my lord,” said Ralph, “ what is it? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

217

“ Nickleby,” said his client, throwing himself along the
sofa on which he had been previously seated, so as to bring
his lips nearer to the old man’s ear, “ what a pretty girl your
niece is! ”

“Is she, my lord? Maybe — maybe. I don’t trouble
my head with such matters.”

“ You know she’s a deyv’lish fine girl. You must know
that, Nickleby. Come, don’t deny that.”

“ Yes, I believe she is considered so. Indeed, I know she
is. If I did not, you are an authority on such points, and
your taste, my lord — on all points, indeed — is unde¬
niable.”

Nobody but the young man to whom these words were
addressed could have been deaf to the sneering tone in which
they were spoken, or blind to the look of contempt by which
they were accompanied. But Lord Frederick Verisopht was
both and took them to be complimentary.

“ Well, p’raps you’re a little right, and p’raps you’re a
little wrong — a little of both, Nickleby. I want to know
where this beauty lives that I may have another peep at her,
Nickleby.”

“ Really - ”

“ Don’t talk so loud,” cried the other, achieving the great
point of his lesson to a miracle. “ I don’t want Hawk to
hear.”

“ You know he is your rival, do you? ”

“ He always is, and I want to steal a march upon him.
Ha, ha, ha! He’ll cut up so rough, Nickleby, at our talking
together without him. Where does she live, Nickleby, that’s
all? Only tell me where she lives, Nickleby.”

“ He bites,” thought Ralph. “ He bites.”

“ Eh, Nickleby, eh ? Where does she live ? ”

“ Really, my lord,” said Ralph, rubbing his hands slowly
pver each other, “ I must think before I tell you.”

218 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ No, not a bit of it, Nickleby; you mustn’t think at all.
Where is it? ”

“ No good can come of your knowing; she has been virtu¬
ously and well brought up ; to be sure she is handsome, poor,
unprotected! Poor girl, poor girl.”

Ralph ran over this brief summary of Kate’s condition as
if it were merely passing through his own mind and he had
no intention to speak aloud; but the shrewd, sly look which
he directed at his companion as he delivered it gave this
poor assumption the lie.

“ I tell you I only want to see her. A ma-an may look at
a pretty woman without harm, mayn’t he? Now, where
does she live? You know you’re making a fortune out of me,
Nickleby, and upon my soul nobody shall ever take me to
anybody else, if you only tell me this.”

“ As you promise that, my lord, and as I am most anxious
to oblige you, and as there’s no harm in it — no harm — I’ll
tell you. But you had better keep it to yourself, my lord;
strictly to yourself.” Ralph pointed to the adjoining room
as he spoke, and nodded expressively.

The young lord, feigning to be equally impressed with the
necessity of this precaution, Ralph disclosed the present
address and occupation of his niece, observing that from
what he heard of the family they appeared very ambitious
to have distinguished acquaintances and that a lord could,
doubtless, introduce himself with great ease, if he felt
disposed.

“ Your object being only to see her again,” said Ralph,
“ you could effect it at any time you chose by that
means.”

Lord Frederick acknowledged the hint with a great many
squeezes of Ralph’s hard, horny hand and, whispering that
they would now do well to close the conversation, called to
Sir Mulberry Hawk that he might come back.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 219

“ I thought you had gone to sleep,” said Sir Mulberry,
reappearing with an ill-tempered air.

“ Sorry to detain you, but Nickleby has been so ama-azingly
funny that I couldn’t tear myself away.”

“No, no,” said Ralph; “it was all his lordship. You
know what a witty, humorous, elegant, accomplished man
Lord Frederick is. Mind the step, my lord — Sir Mulberry,
pray give way.”

With such courtesies as these, and many low bows and the
same cold sneer upon his face all the while, Ralph busied
himself in showing his visitors downstairs.

There had been a ring at the bell a few moments before,
which was answered by Newman Noggs just as they reached
the hall. In the ordinary course of business Newman would
have either admitted the newcomer in silence, or have re¬
quested him or her to stand aside while the gentleman passed
out. But he no sooner saw who it was than he cried in a
loud and sonorous voice: “Mrs. Nickleby! ”

“ Mrs. Nickleby! ” cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, as his friend
looked back, and stared him in the face.

It was, indeed, that well-intentioned lady, who, having
received an offer for the empty house in the city directed to
the landlord, had brought it post-haste to Mr. Nickleby with¬
out delay.

“ Nobody you know,” said Ralph. “ Step into the office,
my — my — dear. I’ll be with you directly.”

“ Nobody I know! ” cried Sir Mulberry Hawk, advancing
to the astonished lady. “Is this Mrs. Nickleby — the
mother of Miss Nickleby — the delightful girl that I had the
happiness of meeting in this house the very last time I
dined here! But no; ” said Sir Mulberry, stopping short.

“ No, it can’t be. There is the same cast of features, the
same indescribable air of — but no, no. This lady is too
young for that.”

220

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I think you can tell the gentleman, brother-in-law, if it
concerns him to know,” said Mrs. Nickleby, acknowledging
the compliment with a graceful bend, “ that Kate Nickleby
is my daughter.”

“ Her daughter, my lord! ” cried Sir Mulberry, turning
to his friend. “ This lady’s daughter, my lord.”

“ My lord!” thought Mrs. Nickleby. “Well, I never

did - ! ”

“ This, then, my lord,” said Sir Mulberry, “ is the lady
to whose obliging marriage we owe so much happiness.
This lady is the mother of sweet Miss Nickleby. Do you
observe the extraordinary likeness, my lord? Nickleby —
introduce us.”

Ralph did so, in a kind of desperation.

“ Upon my soul, it’s a most delightful thing,” said Lord
Frederick, pressing forward: “How de do?”

Mrs. Nickleby was too much flurried by these uncom¬
monly kind salutations, and her regrets at not having on her
other bonnet, to make any immediate reply, so she merely
continued to bend and smile, and betray great agitation.

“ A-and how is Miss Nickleby ? ” said Lord Frederick.
“ Well, I hope? ”

“ She is quite well, I’m obliged to you, my lord,” returned
Mrs. Nickleby, recovering. “ Quite well. She wasn’t well
for some days after that day she dined here, and I can’t help
thinking that she caught cold in that hackney coach coming
home. Hackney coaches, my lord, are such nasty things,
that it’s almost better to walk at any time; for although I
believe a hackney coachman can be transported 1 for life if he
has a broken window, still they are so reckless that they nearly
all have broken windows. I once had a swelled face for six
weeks, my lord, from riding in a hackney coach — I think

1 Transportation or banishment to a colony was a punishment in¬
flicted by the English until 1808.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

221

it was a hackney coach,” said Mrs. Nickleby, reflecting,
“though I’m not quite certain whether it wasn’t a chariot;
at all events, I know it was dark green, with a very long
number, beginning with a nought and ending with a nine —
no, beginning with a nine and ending with a nought — that
was it.”

Having pretty well run herself out by this time, Mrs.
Nickleby stopped as suddenly as she had started off and re¬
peated that Kate was quite well. “ Indeed, I don’t think
she ever was better, since she had the whooping cough, scarlet
fever, and measles, all at the same time, and that’s the fact.”

“ Is that letter for me ? ” growled Ralph, pointing to the
little packet Mrs. Nickleby held in her hand.

“ For you, brother-in-law, and I walked all the way up
here on purpose to give it you.”

“ All the way up here ! ” cried Sir Mulberry, seizing upon
the chance of discovering where Mrs. Nickleby had come
from. “What a confounded distance! How far do you
call it now ? ”

“ How far do I call it ! Let me see. It’s just a mile
from our door to the Old Bailey.”

“ No, no. Not so much as that,” urged Sir Mulberry.

“Oh! It is indeed, I appeal to his lordship,” said Mrs.
Nickleby.

“ I should decidedly say it was a mile,” remarked Lord
Frederick, with a solemn aspect.

“ It must be; it can’t be a yard less,” said Mrs. Nickleby.
“All down Newgate Street, all down Cheapside, all up
Lombard Street, down Gracechurch Street, and along Thames
Street, as far as Spigwiffin’s Wharf. Oh! It’s a mile.”

“Yes, on second thoughts I should say it was,” replied
Sir Mulberry. “ But you don’t surely mean to walk all
the way back ? ”

“ Oh, no, I shall go back in an omnibus. I didn’t travel

222

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

about in omnibuses, when my poor dear husband was alive,
brother-in-law. But as it is, you know - ”

“ Yes, yes,” replied Ralph impatiently, “ and you had
better get back before dark.”

“ Thank you, brother-in-law, so I had. I think I had
better say good bye, at once.”

“Not stop and — rest?” said Ralph, who seldom offered
refreshments unless something was to be got by it.

“ Oh dear me, no,” returned Mrs. Nickleby, glancing at
the dial.

“ Lord Frederick,” said Sir Mulberry, “ we are going Mrs.
Nickleby’s way. We’ll see her safe to the omnibus?”

“ By all means. Ye-es.”

“ Oh! I really couldn’t think of it! ” said Mrs. Nickleby.

But Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Frederick were per¬
emptory in their politeness, and leaving Ralph, who seemed
to think that he looked less ridiculous as a mere spectator
than he would have done if he had taken any part in these
proceedings, they quitted the house with Mrs. Nickleby be¬
tween them. That good lady was in a perfect ecstasy of
satisfaction with the attentions shown her by two titled
gentlemen and with the conviction that Kate might now pick
and choose at least between two large fortunes and most
unexceptionable husbands.

As she was carried away for the moment by an irresistible
train of thought all connected with her daughter’s future
greatness, Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend exchanged
glances over the top of the bonnet which the poor lady so
much regretted not having left at home and proceeded to
dilate with great rapture, but much respect, on the many
perfections of Miss Nickleby.

“ What a delight, what a comfort, what a happiness, this
amiable girl must be to you,” said Sir Mulberry, throwing
into his voice an indication of the warmest feeling.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 223

“ She is indeed, sir, she is the sweetest-tempered, kindest-
hearted daughter — and so clever! ”

“ She looks clayver,” said Lord Frederick Verisopht, with
the air of a judge of cleverness.

“ I assure you she is, my lord,” returned Mrs. Nickleby.

Meanwhile, Ralph walked to and fro in his little back office,
troubled in mind by what had just occurred.

“ I wish I had never done this, and yet it will keep this
boy to me while there is money to be made. Selling a girl
— throwing her in the way of temptation, and insult, and
coarse speech. Nearly two thousand pounds profit from
him already, though. Pshaw! match-making mothers do
the same thing every day.”

He sat down and told the chances, for and against, on his
fingers.

“ If I had not put them in the right track today, this
foolish woman would have done so. Well, if her daughter
is as true to herself as she should be from what I have seen,
what harm ensues? A little teazing, a little humbling, a
few tears. Yes,” said Ralph, aloud, as he locked his iron
safe. “ She must take her chance. She must take her
chance.”

Mrs. Nickleby had not felt so proud and important for
many a day as when, on reaching home, she gave herself
wholly up to the pleasant visions which had accompanied her
on her way thither. Lady Mulberry Hawk — that was the
prevalent idea. Lady Mulberry Hawk — On Tuesday last, at
St. George’s Hanover Square, by the Right Reverend the
Bishop of Llandaff, Sir Mulberry Hawk, of Mulberry Castle,
North Wales, to Catherine, only daughter of the late Nicholas
Nickleby, Esquire, of Devonshire. {< Upon my word! ” cried
Mrs. Nickleby, “ it sounds very well.”

She was preparing her frugal dinner next day, still occu¬
pied with the same ideas — a little softened down perhaps

224

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

by sleep and daylight — when the girl who attended her
rushed into the room and announced that two gentlemen
were waiting in the passage for permission to walk up¬
stairs.

“ Bless my heart! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, hastily arrang¬
ing her cap and dress, “ if it should be — dear me, standing
in the passage all this time — why don’t you go and ask
them to walk up, you stupid thing ? ”

While the girl was gone on this errand, Mrs. Nickleby
hastily swept into a cupboard all vestiges of eating and drink¬
ing, which she had scarcely done, and seated herself with
looks as collected as she could assume, when two gentlemen,
both perfect strangers, presented themselves.

“ How do you do? ” said one gentleman, laying great stress
on the last word of inquiry.

“ How do you do ? ” said the other gentleman, altering the
emphasis, as if to give variety to the salutation.

Mrs. Nickleby curtseyed and smiled, and curtseyed again,
and remarked, rubbing her hands as she did so, that she
hadn’t the — really — the honour to —

“ To know us,” said the first gentleman. “ The loss has
been ours, Mrs. Nickleby. Has the loss been ours, Pyke? ”

“ It has, Pluck.”

“ We have regretted it very often, I believe, Pyke ? ” said
the first gentleman.

“ Very often, Pluck.”

“ But now,” said the first gentleman, “ now we have the
happiness we have pined and languished for. Have we
pined and languished for this happiness, Pyke, or have we
not?”

“You know we have, Pluck.”

“ You hear him, ma’am? ” said Mr. Pluck, looking round;
“ you hear the unimpeachable testimony of my friend Pyke
— that reminds me — formalities, formalities, must not be

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 225

neglected in civilized society. Pyke — Mrs. Nickleby.”

Mr. Pyke laid his hand upon his heart, and bowed low.

“ Whether I shall introduce myself with the same for¬
mality ,” said Mr. Pluck — “Whether I shall say myself
that my name is Pluck, or whether I shall ask my friend
Pyke (who, being now regularly introduced, is competent to
the office) to state for me, Mrs. Nickleby, that my name is
Pluck; whether I shall claim your acquaintance on the plain
ground of the strong interest I take in your welfare, or
whether I shall make myself known to you as the friend of
Sir Mulberry Hawk — these, Mrs. Nickleby, are considera¬
tions which I leave to you to determine.”

“Any friend of Sir Mulberry Hawk’s requires no better
introduction to me,” observed Mrs. Nickleby, graciously.

“ It is delightful to hear you say so,” said Mr. Pluck,
drawing a chair close to Mrs. Nickleby, and seating himself.
“ It is refreshing to know that you hold my excellent friend,
Sir Mulberry, in such high esteem. A word in your ear,
Mrs. Nickleby. When Sir Mulberry knows it, he will be a
happy man — I say, Mrs. Nickleby, a happy man. Pyke,
be seated.”

“ My good opinion,” said Mrs. Nickleby, and the poor
lady exulted in the idea that she was marvellously sly, “ my
good opinion can be of very little consequence to a gentleman
like Sir Mulberry.”

“Of little consequence! ” exclaimed Mr. Pluck. “Pyke,
of what consequence to our friend, Sir Mulberry, is the good
opinion of Mrs. Nickleby?”

“ Of what consequence? ” echoed Pyke.

“ Aye, is it of the greatest consequence? ” repeated Pluck.

“ Of the very greatest consequence,” replied Pyke.

“ Mrs. Nickleby cannot be ignorant,” said Mr. Pluck, “ of
the immense impression which that sweet girl has - ”

“ Pluck ! beware ! ”

226

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Pyke is right,” muttered Mr. Pluck, after a short pause;
“ I was not to mention it. Pyke is very right. Thank you,
Pyke.”

“ Well now, really! ” thought Mrs. Nickleby within her¬
self. “ Such delicacy as that I never saw ! ”

Mr. Pluck, after feigning to be in a condition of great
embarrassment for some minutes, resumed the conversation
by entreating Mrs. Nickleby to take no heed of what he had
said — to consider him imprudent, rash, injudicious. The
only stipulation he would make in his own favour was that
she should give him credit for the best intentions.

“ But when,” said Mr. Pluck, “ when I see so much sweet¬
ness and beauty on the one hand, and so much ardour
and devotion on the other, I — pardon me, Pyke, I didn’t
intend to resume that theme. Change the subject,
Pyke.”

“ We promised Sir Mulberry and Lord Frederick,” said
Pyke, “that we’d call this morning and inquire whether
you took any cold last night.”

“ Not the least in the world, sir, with many thanks to
his lordship and Sir Mulberry for doing me the honour to
inquire; not the least — which is the more singular, as I
really am very subject to colds, indeed — very subject. I
had a cold once — I think it was in the year eighteen hundred
and seventeen — let me see, four and five are nine, and —
yes, eighteen hundred and seventeen, that I thought I never
should get rid of — actually and seriously that I thought I
never should get rid of. I was only cured at last by a remedy
that I don’t know whether you ever happened to hear of, Mr.
Pluck. You have a gallon of water as hot as you can possibly
bear it, with a pound of salt and sixpen’wr’th of the finest
bran, and sit with your head in it for twenty minutes every
night just before going to bed; at least, I don’t mean your
head — your feet. It’s a most extraordinary cure — a most

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

227

extraordinary cure. I used it for the first time, I recollect,
the day after Christmas Day, and by the middle of April
following the cold was gone. It seems quite a miracle when
you come to think of it, for I had had it ever since the be¬
ginning of September.”

“What an afflicting calamity! ” said Mr. Pyke.

“ Perfectly horrid! ” exclaimed Mr. Pluck.

“ But it’s worth the pain of hearing, only to know that
Mrs. Nickleby recovered from it, isn’t it, Pluck? ” cried Mr.
Pyke.

“ That is the circumstance which gives it such a thrilling
interest,” replied Mr. Pyke.

“ But come,” said Pyke, as if suddenly recollecting him¬
self; “ we must not forget our mission in the pleasure of this
interview. We come on a mission, Mrs. Nickleby.”

“ On a mission,” exclaimed that good lady, to whose mind
a definite proposal of marriage for Kate at once presented
itself in lively colours.

“ From Sir Mulberry,” replied Pyke. “ You must be very
dull here.”

“ Rather dull, I confess,” said Mrs. Nickleby.

“ We bring the compliments of Sir Mulberry Hawk, and a
thousand entreaties that you’ll take a seat in a private box
at the play tonight,” said Mr. Pluck.

“ Oh dear ! I never go out at all, never.”

“And that is the very reason, my dear Mrs. Nickleby,
why you should go out tonight,” retorted Mr. Pluck. “ Pyke,
entreat Mrs. Nickleby.”

“ Oh, please decide to go ! ” said Pyke.

“ You positively must,” urged Pluck.

“You are very kind,” said Mrs. Nickleby, “but - ”

“ There’s not a but in the case, my dear Mrs. Nickleby,”
remonstrated Mr. Pluck; “ not such a word in the vocabulary.
Your brother-in-law joins us, Lord Frederick joins us, Sir

228

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Mulberry joins us — a refusal is out of the question. Sir
Mulberry sends a carriage for you — twenty minutes before
seven to the moment — you’ll not be so cruel as to disappoint
the whole party, Mrs. Nickleby ? ”

“You are so very pressing that I scarcely know what to
say,” replied the worthy lady.

“ Say nothing ; not a word, not a word, my dearest madam,”
urged Mr. Pluck. “Mrs. Nickleby,” said that excellent
gentleman, lowering his voice, “ there is the most trifling, the
most excusable breach of confidence in what I am about to
say; and yet if my friend Pyke there overheard it — such
is that man’s delicate sense of honour, Mrs. Nickleby, —
he’d have me out before dinner time, in a duel.”

Mrs. Nickleby cast an apprehensive glance at the war¬
like Pyke, who had walked to the window; and Mr. Pluck,
squeezing her hand, went on:

“Your daughter has made a conquest — a conquest on
which I may congratulate you. Sir Mulberry, my dear
ma’am, Sir Mulberry is her devoted slave. Hem! ”

“ Hah! ” cried Mr. Pyke, at this juncture snatching some¬
thing from the chimneypiece with a theatrical air. “ What
is this! what do I behold! ”

“ What do you behold, my dear fellow? ” asked Mr. Pluck.

“ It is the face, the countenance, the expression,” cried
Mr. Pyke, falling into his chair with a miniature in his
hand ; “ feebly portrayed, imperfectly caught, but still the
face, the countenance, the expression.”

“ I recognise it at this distance ! ” exclaimed Mr. Pluck,
in a fit of enthusiasm. “ Is it not, my dear madam, the faint
similitude of - ”

“ It is my daughter’s portrait,” said Mrs. Nickleby, with
great pride. And so it was. And little Miss La Creevy
had brought it home for inspection only two nights before.

Mr. Pyke no sooner ascertained that he was quite right

229

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

in his conjecture than he launched into the most extravagant
praises of the divine original and in the warmth of his en¬
thusiasm kissed the picture a thousand times, while Mr.
Pluck pressed Mrs. Nickleby’s hand to his heart and con¬
gratulated her on the possession of such a daughter, with so
much earnestness and affection that the tears stood, or
seemed to stand, in his eyes. Poor Mrs. Nickleby, who had
listened in a state of enviable complacency at first, became
at length quite overpowered by these tokens of regard for
the family. Even the servant girl, who had peeped in at
the door, remained rooted to the spot in astonishment at
the ecstasies of the two friendly visitors.

By degrees these raptures subsided, and Mrs. Nickleby
went on to entertain her guests with a lament over her fallen
fortunes and a picturesque account of her old house in the
country, comprising a full description of the different apart¬
ments, not forgetting the little storeroom, and a lively recol¬
lection of how many steps you went down to get into the
garden, and which way you turned when you came out at
the parlour door, and what capital fixtures there were in the
kitchen. This last reflection naturally conducted her into
the wash-house, where she stumbled upon the brewing utensils,
among which she might have wandered for an hour, if the
mere mention of those implements had not, by an association
of ideas, instantly reminded Mr. Pyke that he was “ amazing
thirsty.”

“ And I’ll tell you what,” said Mr. Pyke; “if you’ll send
round to the public house for a pot of mild half-and-half,
positively and actually I’ll drink it.

And positively and actually Mr. Pyke did drink it, and
Mr. Pluck helped him.

“ At twenty minutes before seven, then,” said Mr. Pyke,
rising, “ the coach will be here. One more look one little
look — at that sweet face. Ah! here it is. Unmoved, un-

230

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

changed! ” This by the way was a very remarkable cir¬
cumstance, miniatures being liable to so many changes of
expression. “Oh, Pluck! Pluck!”

Mr. Pluck made no other reply than kissing Mrs. Nickleby’s
hand with a great show of feeling and attachment; Mr.
Pyke having done the same, both gentlemen hastily withdrew.

Mrs. Nickleby had never felt so satisfied with her own
sharp-sightedness as she did that day. She had found it
all out the night before. She had never seen Sir Mulberry
and Kate together — never even heard Sir Mulberry’s name
— and yet hadn’t she said to herself from the very first that
she saw how the case stood ? And what a triumph it was, for
there was now no doubt about it. If these flattering atten¬
tions to herself were not sufficient proofs, Sir Mulberry’s
confidential friend had let the secret escape in so many
words. “ I am quite in love with that dear Mr. Pluck, I
declare I am,” she concluded to herself.

Punctual to its time that evening came the promised vehicle,
which was no hackney coach but a private chariot, having
behind it a footman, whose legs, although somewhat large
for his body, might, as mere abstract legs, have set them¬
selves up for models at the Royal Academy. It was quite
exhilarating to hear the clash and bustle with which he
banged the door and jumped up behind, after Mrs. Nickleby
was in.

At the theatre entrance there was more banging and more
bustle, and there were also Messrs. Pyke and Pluck waiting
to escort her to her box.

Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely been put away behind the
curtain of the box in an armchair, when Sir Mulberry and
Lord Frederick Yerisopht arrived, arrayed from the crowns
of their heads to the tips of their gloves in the most elegant
and costly manner. Sir Mulberry was a little hoarser than
on the previous day, and Lord Frederick looked rather sleepy

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

231

and queer, from which tokens, as well as from the circum¬
stance of their both being to a trifling extent unsteady on
their legs, Mrs. Nickleby concluded that they had taken
dinner.

“ We have been — we have been — toasting your lovely
daughter, Mrs. Nickleby,” whispered Sir Mulberry, sitting
down behind her.

“ You are very kind, Sir Mulberry.”

“ No, no, upon my soul! It’s you that’s kind, upon my
soul it is. It was so kind of you to come tonight.”

“ So very kind of you to invite me, you meafti, Sir Mul¬
berry,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, tossing her head and looking
prodigiously sly.

“ I am so anxious to know you, so anxious to cultivate
your good opinion, so desirous that there should be a delicious
kind of harmonious family understanding between us that
you mustn’t think I’m disinterested in what I do. I’m in¬
fernal selfish; I am — upon my soul I am.”

“ I am sure you can’t be selfish, Sir Mulberry ; you have
much too open and generous a countenance for that.”

“ What an extraordinary observer you are ! ” said Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk.

“ Oh no, indeed, I don’t see very far into things, Sir Mul¬
berry,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, in a tone of voice which left
the baronet to infer that she saw very far indeed.

“ I am quite afraid of you,” said the baronet. “ Upon my
soul,” repeated Sir Mulberry, looking round to his com¬
panions; “I am afraid of Mrs. Nickleby. She is so im¬
mensely sharp.”

Messrs. Pyke and Pluck shook their heads mysteriously
and observed together that they had found that out long
ago, upon which Mrs. Nickleby laughed delightedly, and
Sir Mulberry laughed, and Pyke and Pluck roared.

“ But where’s my brother-in-law, Sir Mulberry? I

232 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

shouldn’t be here without him. I hope he’s coming.”

“ Pyke,” said Sir Mulberry, taking out his toothpick and
lolling back in his chair, as if he were too lazy to invent a
reply to this question. “ Where is Ralph Nickleby ? ”

“ Pluck,” said Pyke, imitating the baronet’s action and
turning the lie over to his friend, “ where’s Ralph Nickle¬
by? ”

Mr. Pluck was about to return some evasive reply, when
the bustle caused by a party entering the next box seemed to
attract the attention of all four gentlemen, who exchanged
glances of much meaning. The new party beginning to con¬
verse together, Sir Mulberry suddenly assumed the character
of a most attentive listener, and implored his friends not to
breathe — not to breathe.

“ Why not ? ” said Mrs. Nickleby. “ What is the matter ? ”

“ Hush! ” replied Sir Mulberry, laying his hand on her arm.
“ Lord Frederick, do you recognize the tones of that voice? ”

“ Deyvle take me if I didn’t think it was the voice of Miss
Nickleby.”

“ Lor, my lord ! ” cried Miss Nickleby’s mama, thrusting her
head round the curtain. “ Why actually — Kate, my dear,
Kate.”

“You here, mama! Is it possible! ”

“Possible, my dear? Yes.”

“ Why, who — who on earth is that you have with you,
Mama ? ” said Kate, shrinking back as she caught sight of
a man smiling and kissing his hand.

“ Who do you suppose, my dear? ” replied Mrs. Nickleby,
bending towards Mrs. Witterly, and speaking a little louder
for that lady’s edification.

“ There’s Mr. Pyke, Mr. Pluck, Sir Mulberry Hawk, and
Lord Frederick Verisopht.”

“ Gracious Heaven ! ” thought Kate, hurriedly. “ How
comes she in such society! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

233

r Now Kate thought thus so hurriedly, and the surprise was
so great and brought back so forcibly the recollection of what
had passed at Ralph’s delectable dinner that she turned
extremely pale and appeared greatly agitated, which symp¬
toms being observed by Mrs. Nickleby, were at once set
down by that acute lady as being caused by violent love.
But although she was delighted by this discovery, it did not
lessen her motherly anxiety in Kate’s behalf. Accordingly,
she left her own box to hasten into the next one. Mrs.
Witterly, keenly alive to the glory of having a lord and a
baronet among her visiting acquaintances, lost no time in
signing to Mr. Witterly to open the door, and thus it was
that in less than thirty seconds Mrs. Nickleby’s party had
made an irruption into Mrs. Witterly’s box, which it filled
to the very door.

“ My dear Kate,” said Mrs. Nickleby, kissing her daughter
affectionately, “ how ill you looked a moment ago ! You quite
frightened me, I declare! ”

“ It was a mere fancy, mama — the — the — reflection of
the lights perhaps,” replied Kate, glancing nervously round,
and finding it impossible to whisper any caution or explana¬
tion.

“ Don’t you see Sir Mulberry Hawk, my dear? ”

Kate bowed slightly and, biting her lip, turned her head
towards the stage.

But Sir Mulberry Hawk was not to be so easily repulsed,
for he advanced with extended hand; and Mrs. Nickleby
officiously informing Kate of this circumstance, she was
obliged to extend her own. Sir Mulberry detained it while
he murmured a profusion of compliments, which Kate, re¬
membering what had passed between them, rightly con¬
sidered as so many aggravations of the insult he had already
put upon her. Then followed the recognition of Lord
Frederick Verisopht, and then the greeting of Mr. Pyke,

234

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

and then that of Mr. Pluck, and finally, to complete the
young lady’s mortification, she was compelled, at Mrs.
Witterly’s request, to perform the ceremony of introducing
the odious persons, whom she regarded with the utmost in¬
dignation and abhorrence.

“ Mrs. Witterly is delighted,” said Mr. Witterly, rubbing
his hands; “ delighted, my lord, I am sure, with this oppor¬
tunity of contracting an acquaintance which, I trust, my
lord, we shall improve. Julia, my dear, you must not allow
yourself to be too much excited, you must not. Indeed you
must not. Mrs. Witterly is of a most excitable nature, Sir
Mulberry; the snuff of a candle, the wick of a lamp, the
bloom on a peach, the down on a butterfly. You might blow
her away, my lord; you might blow her away.”

Sir Mulberry seemed to think that it would be a great
convenience if the lady could be blown away. He said,
however, that the delight was mutual, and Lord Frederick
added that it was mutual, whereupon Messrs. Pyke and
Pluck were heard to murmur from the distance that it was
very mutual indeed.

“ I take an interest, my lord,” said Mrs. Witterly, with a
faint smile, “ such an interest in the drama.”

“ Ye-es. It’s very interesting,” replied Lord Frederick.

“ I’m always ill after Shakespeare,” said Mrs. Witterly.
“ I scarcely exist the next day; I find the reaction so very great
after a tragedy, my lord, and Shakespeare is such a delicious
creature.”

“Ye-es!” replied Lord Frederick. “He was a clayver
man.”

“ Do you know, my lord,” said Mrs. Witterly, after a long
silence, “ I find I take so much more interest in his plays
after having been to that dear little dull house he was born in !
Were you ever there, my lord ? ”

“ No, nayver .”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

235

“ Then really you ought to go, my lord,” returned Mrs.
Witterly, in very languid and drawling accents. “ I don’t
know how it is, but after you’ve seen the place and written
your name in the little book, somehow or other you seem to
be inspired; it kindles up quite a fire within one.”

“Ye-es! I shall certainly go there.”

“ Julia, my life,” interposed Mr. Witterly, “ you are de¬
ceiving his lordship — unintentionally, my lord, she is de¬
ceiving you. It is your poetical temperament, my dear —
your ethereal soul — your fervid imagination, which throws
you into a glow of genius and excitement. There is nothing
in the place, my dear — nothing, nothing.”

“ I think there must be something in the place,” said Mrs.
Nickleby, who had been listening in silence ; “ for soon after
I was married, I went to Stratford with my poor dear Mr.
Nickleby, in a post-chaise from Birmingham — was it a post-
chaise though! ” said Mrs. Nickleby, considering; “yes, it
must have been a post-chaise, because I recollect remarking
at the time that the driver had a green shade over his left
eye; — in a post-chaise from Birmingham, and after we had
seen Shakespeare’s tomb and birthplace, we went back to the
inn there, where we slept that night, and I recollect that all
night long I dreamt of nothing but a black gentleman, at full
length, in plaster-of-Paris, with a lay-down collar tied with
two tassels, leaning against a post and thinking ; and when I
woke in the morning and described him to Mr. Nickleby, he
said it was Shakespeare just as he had been when he was
alive, which was very curious indeed.”

When Mrs. Nickleby had brought this interesting anecdote
to a close, Pyke and Pluck, ever zealous in their patron’s
cause, proposed the adjournment of some of the party into
the next box; and with so much skill were the preliminaries
adjusted that Kate, despite all she could say or do to the
contrary, had no alternative but to allow herself to be led

236

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

away by Sir Mulberry Hawk. Her mother and Mr. Pluck
accompanied them, but the worthy lady, pluming herself
upon her discretion, took particular care not so much as to
look at her daughter during the whole evening and to seem
wholly absorbed in the jokes and conversation of Mr. Pluck,
who, having been appointed sentry over Mrs. Nickleby for
that especial purpose, neglected no possible opportunity of
engrossing her. attention.

Lord Frederick Verisopht remained in the next box to be
talked to by Mrs. Witterly, and Mr. Pyke was in attendance
to throw in a word or two when necessary. As to Mr.
Witterly, he was sufficiently busy in the body of the house,
informing such of his friends and acquaintances as happened
to be there that those two gentlemen upstairs whom they
had seen in conversation with Mrs. W. were the distinguished
Lord Frederick Verisopht and his most intimate friend, the
gay Sir Mulberry Hawk.

The evening came to an end at last, but Kate had yet to
be escorted downstairs by the detested Sir Mulberry; and
so skillfully wTere the manoeuvres of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck
conducted, that she and the baronet were the last of the
party, and were, even without an appearance of effort or
design — left at some little distance behind.

“ Don’t hurry, don’t hurry,” said Sir Mulberry, as Kate
hastened on, and attempted to release her arm.

She made no reply, but still pressed forward.

“ Nay, then - ” coolly observed Sir Mulberry, stopping

her outright.

“ You had best not detain me, sir! ” said Kate, angrily.

“ And why not ? My dear girl, now why do you keep up
this show of displeasure ? ”

“ Show ! How dare you presume to speak to me, sir — to
address me — to come into my presence ? ”

“ You look prettier in a passion, Miss Nickleby,” said Sir

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 237

Mulberry Hawk, stooping down, the better to see her
face.

“ I told you that I hold you in the bitterest detestation and
contempt. If you find any attraction in looks of disgust and
aversion, you — let me rejoin my friends instantly. What
ever considerations may have withheld me so far, I will dis¬
regard them all, and take a course that even you might feel,
if you do not immediately allow me to proceed.”

Sir Mulberry smiled, and still looking in her face and re¬
taining her arm, walked towards the door.

“ If no regard for my sex or helpless situation will induce
you to stop this coarse and unmanly persecution,” said Kate,
scarcely knowing, in the tumult of her passions, what she said,
“ I have a brother who will resent it dearly one day.”

“Upon my soul! ” exclaimed Sir Mulberry, as though
quietly communing with himself and passing his arm round
her waist as he spoke, u she looks more beautiful, and I like
her better in this mood, than when her eyes are cast down
and she is in perfect repose ! ”

How Kate reached the lobby where her friends were wait¬
ing she never knew, but she hurried across it without at all
regarding them, disengaged herself suddenly from her com¬
panion, sprang into the coach, and throwing herself into its
darkest corner burst into tears.

Messrs. Pyke and Pluck, knowing their cue, at once threw
the party into great commotion by shouting for the carriages
and getting up a violent quarrel with sundry inoffensive by¬
standers. In the midst of this tumult they put the affrighted
Mrs. Nickleby in her chariot, and having got her safely off,
turned their thoughts to Mrs. Witterly, whose attention also
they had now effectually distracted from the young lady, by
throwing her into a state of the utmost bewilderment and
consternation. At length, the conveyance in which Mrs.
Witterly had come rolled off, too, with its load, and the four

238

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

worthies, being left alone under the portico, enjoyed a hearty
laugh together.

“ There,” said Sir Mulberry, turning to his noble friend,
“ didn’t I tell you last night that if we could find where they
were going by bribing a servant through my fellow, and then
establish ourselves close by with the mother, these people’s
house would be our own ? Why here it is, done in f our-and-
twenty hours.”

“ Ye-es,” replied the dupe. “ But I have been tied, to the
old woman all ni-ight.”

“Hear him!” said Sir Mulberry, turning to his two
friends. “ Hear this discontented grumbler. Isn’t it enough
to make a man swear never to help him in his plots and
schemes again. Isn’t it an infernal shame? ”

Pyke asked Pluck whether it was not an infernal shame, and
Pluck asked Pyke; but neither answered.

“Isn’t it the truth? Wasn’t it so?” demanded Lord
Frederick.

“Wasn’t it so! ” repeated Sir Mulberry. “How would
you have had it? How could we have got a general invita¬
tion at first sight to visit at their home — come when you like,
go when you like, stop as long as you like, do what you like
— if you, the lord, had not made yourself agreeable to the
foolish mistress of the house ? Do I care for this girl, except
as your friend? Haven’t I been sounding your praises in
her ears and bearing her pretty sulks and peevishness all
night for you? What sort of stuff do you think I’m made of?
Would I do this for every man? Don’t I deserve even grati¬
tude in return ? ”

“ You’re a deyvlish good fellow,” said the poor young
lord, taking his friend’s arm. “ Upon my life, you’re a
deyvlish good fellow, Hawk.”

“ And I have done right, have I ? ” demanded Sir Mul¬
berry.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

239

“ Quite ri-ght.”

“ And like a poor, silly, good-natured, friendly dog as I
am, eh ? ”

“ Ye-es, ye-es, like a friend,” replied the other.

“ Well, then, Fm satisfied,” replied Sir Mulberry.

With these words he took his companion’s arm and led
him away, turning half round as he did so and bestowing a
wink and a contemptuous smile on Messrs. Pike and Pluck,
who, cramming their handkerchiefs into their mouths to
denote their silent enjoyment of the proceedings, followed
their patron and his victim at a little distance.

CHAPTER XVII

THE next morning brought reflection with it, as morning
usually does; but widely different was the train of
thought it awakened in the different persons who had been
so unexpectedly brought together on the preceding evening,
by the active agency of Messrs. Pyke and Pluck.

The reflections of Sir Mulberry Hawk turned upon Kate
Nickleby, and were, in brief, that she was undoubtedly hand¬
some ; that her coyness must be easily conquerable by a man
of his address and experience.

The reflections of Mrs. Nickleby were of the proudest and
most complacent kind. Under the influence of her very
agreeable delusion she straightway sat down and wrote a
long letter to Kate, in which she expressed her entire ap¬
proval of the admirable choice she had made and extolled
Sir Mulberry to the skies.

Poor Kate was well nigh distracted on the receipt of four
closely written and closely crossed sides of congratulation on
the very subject which had prevented her closing her eyes all
night, and kept her weeping and watching in her room. Still

240

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

worse and more trying was the necessity of rendering herself
agreeable to Mrs. Witterly, who, being in low spirits after
the fatigue of the preceding night, of course expected her
companion to be in the best of spirits possible. As to Mr.
Witterly, he went about all day in a tremor of delight at
having shaken hands with a lord and having actually asked
him to come to see him in his own house. The lord himseif,
not being troubled to any inconvenient extent with the power
of thinking, regaled himself with the conversation of Messrs.
Pyke and Pluck, who sharpened their wit by a plentiful
indulgence in various costly stimulants at his expense.

It was four in the afternoon, and Mrs. Witterly reclined,
according to custom, on the drawing-room sofa, while Kate
read aloud a new novel in three volumes, entitled The Lady
Flabella, which Alphonse had procured from the library that
very morning. It was a production admirably suited to a
lady labouring under Mrs. Witterly’s complaint, seeing that
there was not a line in it, from beginning to end, which could
awaken the smallest excitement in any person breathing.

Kate read on.

“ Close the book, Miss Nickleby,” said Mrs. Witterly.
“ I can hear nothing more today. I should be sorry to dis¬
turb the impression of that sweet description. Close the
book.”

Kate complied, not unwillingly; and as she did so, Mrs.
Witterly, raising her glass with a languid hand, remarked
that she looked pale.

“ It was the fright of that — that noise and confusion last
night,” said Kate.

“How very odd! ” exclaimed Mrs. Witterly, with a look
of surprise. And certainly, when one comes to think of it,
it was very odd that anything should have disturbed a com¬
panion.

“ How did you come to know Lord Frederick and those

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

241

other delightful men, child? ” asked Mrs. Witterly, still eyeing
Kate through her glass.

“ I met them at my uncle’s/’ said Kate, vexed to feel that
she was colouring deeply, but unable to keep down the blood
which rushed to her face whenever she thought of that man.

“ Have you known them long ? ”

“ No, not very.”

“ I was very glad of the opportunity which that respectable
person, your mother, gave us of being known to them. Some
friends of ours were on the very point of introducing us,
which makes it quite remarkable.”

This was said lest Miss Nickleby should grow conceited
on the honour and dignity of having known four great people
(for Pyke and Pluck were included among the delightful
men) whom Mrs. Witterly did not know. But as the cir¬
cumstance had made no impression one way or other upon
Kate’s mind, the force of the observation was quite lost
upon her.

« They asked permission to call. I gave it to them, of
course,” said the lady of the house.

“Do you expect them today?” Kate ventured to in¬
quire.

Mrs. Witterly ’s answer was lost in the noise of a tremen¬
dous rapping at the street door, and before it had ceased to
vibrate, there drove up a handsome cabriolet, out of which
leaped Sir Mulberry Hawk and his friend Lord Frederick.
This was seen through the window.

“ They are here now,” said Kate, rising and hurrying away.

“Miss Nickleby! ” cried Mrs. Witterly, perfectly aghast
at a companion’s attempting to leave the room without her
permission. “ Pray don’t think of going.

“ You are very good! But - ”

“ For goodness’s sake, don’t agitate me by making me speak
so much I dear me, Miss Nickleby, I beg - ”

242

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

It was in vain for Kate to protest, for the footsteps of the
knockers, whoever they were, were already on the stairs.
She resumed her seat, and had scarcely done so, when the
page darted into the room and announced, Mr. Pyke, and
Mr. Pluck, and Lord Frederick Verisopht, and Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk.

“ The most extraordinary thing in the world,” said Mr.
Pluck, saluting both ladies with the utmost cordiality; “ the
most extraordinary thing. As Lord Frederick and Sir Mul¬
berry drove up to the door, Pyke and I had that instant
knocked.”

“ That instant knocked,” said Pyke.

“No matter how you came, so that you are here,” said
Mrs. Witterly, who, by dint of lying on the same sofa for
three years and a half, had got up a little pantomime of
graceful attitudes, and now threw herself into the most
striking of the series to astonish the visitors. “ I am de¬
lighted, I am sure.”

“And how is Miss Nickleby? ” said Sir Mulberry Hawk,
accosting Kate, in a low voice;' not so low, however, but that
it reached the ears of Mrs. Witterly.

“ Why, she complains of suffering from the fright of last
night. I am sure I don’t wonder at it, for my nerves are
quite torn to pieces.”

“And yet you look,” observed Sir Mulberry, turning
round, “ and yet you look - ”

“Beyond everything,” said Mr. Pyke, coming to his
patron’s assistance. Of course, Mr. Pluck said the same.

“ I am afraid Sir Mulberry is a flatterer, my lord,” said
Mrs. Witterly turning to that young gentleman, who had been
sucking the head of his cane in silence and staring at Kate.

“Oh, deyvlish! ” replied my lord. Having given utter¬
ance to which remarkable sentiment, he occupied himself as
before.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

243

“ Neither does Miss Nickleby look the worse/’ said Sir
Mulberry, bending his bold gaze upon her. “ She was always
handsome, but upon my soul, ma’am, you seem to have im¬
parted some of your own good looks to her besides.”

To judge from the glow which suffused the poor girl’s
countenance after this speech, Mrs. Witterly might, with
some show of reason, have been supposed to have imparted
to it some of that artificial bloom which decorated her own.
Mrs. Witterly admitted, though not with the best grace in
the world, that Kate did look pretty. She began to think,
too, that Sir Mulberry was not quite so agreeable a person
as she had at first supposed him; for although a skillful
flatterer is a most delightful companion if you can keep him
all to yourself, his taste becomes very doubtful when he takes
to complimenting other people.

“ Pyke,” said the watchful Mr. Pluck, observing the effect
which the praise of Miss Nickleby had produced.

“ Well, Pluck.”

“ Is there anybody,” demanded Mr. Pluck, mysteriously,
“ anybody you know, whom Mrs. Witterly’s profile reminds
you of? ”

“ Reminds me of! Of course there is.”

“ Who do you mean? ” said Pluck, in the same mysterious
manner. “ The D. of B.?”

“ The C. of B.,” replied Pyke, with the faintest trace of
a grin lingering in his countenance. “ The beautiful sister
is the countess, not the duchess.”

“ True, the C. of B. The resemblance is wonderful! ”

“ Perfectly startling! ” said Mr. Pyke.

Here was a state of things! Mrs. Witterly was declared,
upon the testimony of two veracious and competent wit¬
nesses, to be the very picture of a countess! This was one
of the consequences of getting into good society. Why, she
might have moved among grovelling people for twenty years

244

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

and never heard of it. How could she’ indeed? What did
they know about countesses!

The two gentlemen having by the greediness with which
this little bait was swallowed tested the extent of Mrs.
Witterly’s appetite for flattery proceeded to administer that
commodity in very large doses, thus affording to Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk an opportunity of pestering Miss Nickleby with
questions and remarks to which she was absolutely obliged
to make some reply. Meanwhile Lord Frederick enjoyed
unmolested the full flavour of the gold knob at the top of his
cane, as he would have done to the end of the interview if
Mr. Witterly had not come home and caused the conversation
to turn to his favourite topic.

“ My lord,” said Mr. Witterly, “ I am delighted — hon¬
oured — proud. Be seated again, my lord, pray. I am
proud, indeed; most proud.”

It was to the secret annoyance of his wife that Mr. Witterly
said all this, for, although she was bursting with pride and
arrogance, she would have had the illustrious guests believe
that their visit was quite a common occurrence and that they
had lords and baronets to see them every day in the week.
But Mr. Witterly’s feelings were beyond the power of sup¬
pression.

“ It is an honour, indeed! Julia, my soul, you will suffer
for this tomorrow.”

“ Suffer ! ” cried Lord Frederick.

“ The reaction, my lord, the reaction,” said Mr. Witterly.
“ This violent strain upon the nervous system over, my lord,
what ensues ? A sinking, a depression, a lowness, a lassitude,
a debility. My lord, if Dr. Tumley Snuffim, her doctor,
was to see that delicate lady at this moment, he would not
give a — a — this for her life.” In illustration of which re¬
mark, Mr. Witterly took a pinch of snuff from his box, and
jerked it lightly into the air as an emblem of instability.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

245

“ Mrs. Witterly,” said her husband, “ is Dr. Tumley
Snuffim’s favourite patient. I believe I may venture to
say that Mrs. Witterly is the first person who took the new
medicine which is supposed to have destroyed a family at
Kensington Gravel Pits. I believe she has. If I am wrong,
Julia, my dear, you will correct me.”

“ I believe I was,” said Mrs. Witterly, in a faint voice.

As there appeared to be some doubt in the mind of his
patron how he could best join in this conversation, the in¬
defatigable Mr. Pyke threw himself into the breach, and,
by way of saying something to the point, inquired — with
reference to the aforesaid medicine — whether it was nice?

“ No, sir, it was not. It had not even that recommenda¬
tion,” said Mr. W.

“ Mrs. Witterly is quite a martyr,” observed Pyke, with
a complimentary bow.

“ I think I am,” said Mrs. Witterly, smiling.

“ I think you are, my dear Julia,” replied her husband,
in a tone which seemed to say that he was not vain, but still
must insist upon their privileges. “If anybody, my lord,”
added Mr. Witterly, wheeling round to the nobleman, “ will
produce to me a greater martyr than Mrs. Witterly, all I
can say is that I shall be glad to see that martyr, whether
male or female — that’s all, my lord.”

Pyke and Pluck promptly remarked that certainly nothing
could be fairer than that; and the call having been by this
time protracted to a very great length, they obeyed Sir
Mulberry’s look and rose to go. This brought Sir Mulberry
himself and Lord Frederick on their legs also. Many pro¬
testations of friendship were exchanged, and the visitors
departed with renewed assurances that at all times and sea¬
sons the mansion of the Witterly’s would be honoured by re¬
ceiving them beneath its roof.

After this day they came at all times and seasons. They

246

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

dined there one day, supped the next, dined again on the
next, and were constantly to and fro on all days. They
made parties to visit public places and met by accident.
And upon all these occasions Miss Nickleby was exposed to
the constant and unremitting persecution of Sir Mulberry
Hawk, — there seemed no escape from his insulting presence.
She had no intervals of peace or rest, except at those hours
when she could sjt in her solitary room and weep over the
trials of the day. These conditions were consequences nat¬
urally flowing from the well-laid plans of Sir Mulberry, and
their able execution by Pyke and Pluck. For a fortnight
matters went on in this way.

As the odious Sir Mulberry Hawk attached himself to
Kate with less and less disguise, Mrs. Witterly began to grow
jealous of the superior attractions of Miss Nickleby. The
dreadful idea that Lord Frederick Verisopht also was some¬
what taken with Kate and that she, Mrs. Witterly, was quite
a secondary person finally dawned upon that lady’s mind.
Then she became possessed with a large quantity of highly
proper indignation and felt- it her duty, as a married lady
and a moral member of society, to mention the circumstance
to “ the young person ” without delay.

Accordingly Mrs. Witterly broke ground one morning
during a pause in the novel reading.

“ Miss Nickleby, I wish to speak to you very gravely. I
am sorry to do it, upon my word, I am very sorry; but you
leave me no alternative, Miss Nickleby.” Here Mrs. Wit¬
terly tossed her head — not passionately, only virtuously —
and remarked, with some appearance of excitement, that she
feared that palpitation of the heart was coming on again.

“ Your behaviour, Miss Nickleby, is very far from pleasing
me — very far. I am very anxious indeed that you should do
well, but you may depend upon it, Miss Nickleby, you will
not if you go on as you do.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

247

“Ma’am! ” exclaimed Kate, proudly.

“ Don’t agitate me by speaking in that way, Miss Nickleby ;
don’t, or you’ll compel me to ring the bell.”

Kate looked at her, but said nothing.

“You needn’t suppose that your looking at me in that
way, Miss Nickleby, will prevent my saying what I am
going to say, which I feel to be a religious duty. You needn’t
direct your glances towards me. I am not Sir Mulberry,
no, nor Lord Frederick Yerisopht, Miss Nickleby; nor am
I Mr. Pyke, nor Mr. Pluck either.” Kate looked at her
again, but less steadily than before and, resting her elbow
on the table, covered her eyes with her hand.

“ If such things had been done when I was a young girl,
I don’t suppose anybody would have believed it.”

“ I don’t think they would,” murmured Kate. “ I do not
think anybody would believe, without actually knowing it,
what I seem doomed to undergo! ”

“Don’t talk to me of being doomed to undergo, Miss
Nickleby, if you please. I will not be answered, Miss
Nickleby. I am not accustomed to be answered, nor will I
permit it for an instant. Do you hear? ” she added, waiting
with some apparent inconsistency for an answer.

“ I do hear you, ma’am, with surprise; with greater sur¬
prise than I can express.”

“ I have always considered you a particularly well-behaved
young person of healthy appearance and neat in your dress
and so forth. I have taken an interest in you, as I do still,
considering that I owe a sort of duty to that respectable old
female, your mother. For these reasons, Miss Nickleby, I
must tell you once for all that I must insist upon your im¬
mediately altering your very forward behaviour to the gentle¬
men who visit at this house. It really is not becoming,^ said
Mrs. Witterly, closing her chaste eyes as she spoke “ it is
improper, quite improper.”

248

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Oh! ” cried Kate, “ is not this, is not this too cruel, too
hard to bear! Is it not enough that I should have suffered
as I have, night and day; that I should almost have sunk in
my own estimation from very shame of having been brought
into contact with such people; but must I also be exposed
to this unjust and most unfounded charge! ”

“ You will have the goodness to recollect, Miss Nickleby,
that when you use such terms as ‘ unjust ' and ‘ unfounded/
you charge me, in effect, with stating that which is un¬
true.”

“I do; I say it is vilely, grossly, wilfully untrue. Is it
possible that any one of my own sex can have sat by and
not have seen the misery these men have caused me! Is
it possible that you, ma'am, can have been present and failed
to mark the insulting freedom that their every look showed?
Is it possible that you can have avoided seeing that these
libertines, in their utter disrespect for you and utter disregard
of all gentlemanly behaviour, and almost of decency, have
had but one object in introducing themselves here, and that
the furtherance of their designs upon a friendless, helpless girl,
who, without this humiliating confession, might have hoped
to receive from one so much her senior something like
womanly aid and sympathy ? I do not — I cannot believe
it! ”

If poor Kate had possessed the slightest knowledge of the
world, she certainly would not have ventured upon such
an injudicious speech as this. Its effect was precisely what
a more experienced observer would have foreseen. Mrs.
Witterly received the attack upon her veracity with exem¬
plary calmness and listened with the most heroic fortitude
to Kate's account of her own sufferings. But allusions being
made to her being held in disregard by the gentlemen, she
evinced violent emotion, and this blow was no sooner followed
up by the remark concerning her seniority than she fell back
upon the sofa, uttering dismal screams.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

249

“ What is the matter ! ” cried Mr. Witterly, bouncing into
the room. “Heavens, what do I see! Julia! Julia!
Look up, my life, look up! ”

But Julia looked down most perseveringly and screamed
still louder! So Mr. Witterly rang the bell and danced in a
frenzied manner round the sofa on which Mrs. Witterly lay,
uttering perpetual cries for Dr. Tumley Snuffim, and never
once leaving off to ask for any explanation of the scene before
him.

“ Run for Dr. Snuffim,” cried Mr. Witterly, menacing the
page with both fists. “ I knew it, Miss Nickleby,” he said,
looking round with an air of melancholy triumph, “ that
society has been too much for her. This is all soul, you
know, every bit of it.” With this assurance Mr. Witterly
took up the prostrate form of Mrs. Witterly and carried her
bodily off to bed.

After Dr. Tumley Snuffim had paid his visit and looked
in with the report, that, through a merciful Providence, Mrs.
Witterly had gone to sleep, Kate hastily attired herself for
walking and, leaving word that she would return within
a couple of hours, hurried away towards her uncle s
house.

It had been a good day with Ralph Nickleby, quite a lucky
day. He walked to and fro in his little back room with his
hands clasped behind him, adding up in his own mind all the
sums that had been, or would be, netted from the business
done since morning.

“ Very good ! ” said Ralph, in allusion, no doubt, to some
proceeding of the day. “ Who’s that ? ” . „

“ Me,” said Newman Noggs, looking in. “ Your niece.

“ What of her? ” asked Ralph sharply.

“ She’s here.”

“Here?”

Newman jerked his head towards his little room to signify
that she was waiting there.

250

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ What does she want? ”

“ I don’t know. Shall I ask? ” he added quickly.

“ No, show her in! Stay.” He hastily put away a pad¬
locked cashbox that was on the table, and substituted in its
stead an empty purse. “ There, now she may come in.”

Newman, with a grim smile at this manoeuvre, beckoned the
young lady to advance, and having placed a chair for her,
retired, looking stealthily over his shoulder at Ralph, as he
limped slowly out.

“ Well,” said Ralph, roughly enough, but still with some¬
thing more of kindness in his manner than he would have
exhibited towards anybody else. “Well, my — dear. What
now ? ”

Kate raised her eyes, which were filled with tears, and with
an effort to master her emotion strove to speak, but in vain.
So drooping her head again, she remained silent. Her face
was hidden from his view, but Ralph could see that she was
weeping.

“ I can guess the cause of this ! ” thought Ralph, after
looking at her for some time in silence. “ I can — I can —
guess the cause. Well! Well! ” — for the moment quite
disconcerted, as he watched the anguish of his beautiful
niece. “Where is the harm? Only a few tears; and it’s
an excellent lesson for her, an excellent lesson.”

“ What is the matter ? ” asked Ralph, drawing a chair op¬
posite and sitting down.

He was rather taken aback by the sudden firmness with
which Kate looked up and answered him.

“ The matter which brings me to you, sir, is one which
should call the blood up into your cheeks and make you burn
to hear, as it does me to tell. I have been wronged; my feel¬
ings have been outraged, insulted, wounded past all healing,
and by your friends.”

“ Friends! I have no friends, girl,” said Ralph sternly.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

251

“ By the men I saw here, then. If they were no friends
of yours, and you knew what they were — oh, the more
shame on you, uncle, for bringing me among them. To
have subjected me to what I was exposed to here, through
any misplaced confidence or imperfect knowledge of your
guests, would have required some strong excuse; but if you
did it — as I now believe you did — knowing them well, it
was most dastardly and cruel.”

Ralph drew back in utter amazement at this plain speaking
and regarded Kate with the sternest look. But she met his
gaze proudly and firmly; and although her face was very
pale, it looked more noble and handsome, lighted up as it
was, than it had ever appeared before.

“There is some of that boy’s blood in you, I see,” said
Ralph, speaking in his hardest tones, as something in the
flashing eye reminded him of Nicholas at their last meeting.

“ I hope there is! I should be proud to know it. I am
young, uncle, and all the difficulties and miseries of my
situation have kept it down, but I have been roused today
beyond all endurance, and come what may, I will not, as I
am your brother’s child, bear these insults longer.”

“ What insults, girl? ”

“ Remember what took place here, and ask yourself.
Uncle, you must — lam sure you will — release me from such
vile and degrading companionships as I am exposed to now.
I do not mean,” said Kate, hurrying to the old man and
laying her arm upon his shoulder, “ I do not mean to be
angry and violent — I beg your pardon if I have seemed so,
dear uncle, — but you cannot tell what the heart of a young
girl is — I have no right to expect you should; but when
I tell you that I am wretched, and that my heart is
breaking, I am sure you will help me. I am sure, I am sure
you will ! ”

Ralph looked at her for an instant, then turned away

252

NICHOLAS. NICKLEBY

his head, and beat his foot nervously upon the ground.

“ I have gone on day after day,” said Kate, bending over
him and timidly placing her little hand in his, “ in the hope
that this persecution would cease. I have gone on day after
day, compelled to assume the appearance of cheerfulness
when I was most unhappy. I have had no counsellor, no
adviser, no one to protect me. Mama supposes that these
are honourable men, rich and distinguished, and how can I
— how can I undeceive her — when she is so happy in these
little delusions, which are the only happiness she has? The
lady with whom you placed me is not the person to whom I
could confide matters of so much delicacy, and I have come
at last to you, the only friend I have at hand — almost the
only friend I have at all — to entreat and implore you to
assist me.”

“ How can I assist you, child ? ” said Ralph, rising from his
chair and pacing up and down the room in his old attitude.

“You have influence with one of these men, I know;
would not a word from you induce them to desist from this
unmanly course ? ”

“ No, at least — that — I can’t say it, if it would.”

“ Can’t say it ! ”

“ No,” said Ralph, coming to a dead stop and clasping his
hands more tightly behind him. “ I can’t say it.”

Kate fell back a step or two and looked at him, as if in
doubt whether she had heard aright.

“ We are connected in business,” said Ralph, poising him¬
self alternately on his toes and heels and looking coolly in
his niece’s face, “ in business, and I can’t afford to offend
them. What is it, after all? We have all our trials, and
this is one of yours. Some girls would be proud to have such
gallants at their feet ”

“ Proud! ”

“ I don’t say,” rejoined Ralph, raising his forefinger, “ but

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

253

that you do right to despise them; no, you show your good
sense in that, as indeed I knew from the first you would.
Well. In all other respects you are comfortably bestowed.
It’s not much to bear. If this young lord does dog your
footsteps and whisper his drivelling inanities in your ears,
what of it? It’s a dishonourable passion. So be it; it
won’t last long. Some other novelty will spring up one day,
and you will be released. In the meantime - ”

“ In the meantime, I am to be the scorn of my own sex
and the toy of the other; justly condemned by all women
of right feeling and despised by all honest and honourable
men* sunken in my own esteem and degraded in every eye
that looks upon me. No, not if I work my fingers to the
bone, not if I am driven to the roughest and hardest labour.
Do not mistake me. I will not disgrace your recommenda¬
tion. I will remain in the house in which it placed me, until
I am entitled to leave it by the terms of my engagement;
though, mind, I see these men no more! When I leave it, I
will hide myself from them and you, and, striving to support
my mother by hard service, I will live, at least, in peace, and
trust in God to help me.”

With these words, she waved her hand and left the room,
leaving Ralph Nickleby motionless as a statue.

The surprise with which Kate, as she closed the room
door, beheld, close beside it, Newman Noggs standing bolt
upright in a little niche in. the wall, almost occasioned her
to call aloud. But, Newman laying his fingers upon his
lips, she had the presence of mind to refrain.

“ Don’t,” said Newman, gliding out of his recess and
accompanying her across the hall. “ Don’t cry, don’t cry.”
Two very large tears, by the by, were running down New¬
man’s face as he spoke.

“ I see how it is,” said poor Noggs, drawing from his pocket
what seemed to be a very old duster, and wiping Kate s eyes

254

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

with it, as gently as if she were an infant. “ You’re giving
way now. Yes, yes, very good; that’s right, I like that. It
was right not to give way before him. Yes, yes! Ha, ha, ha!
Oh, yes. Poor thing! ”

With these disjointed exclamations, Newman wiped his
own eyes with the aforementioned duster and, limping to
the street door, opened it to let her out.

“ Don’t cry any more,” whispered Newman. “ I shall see
you soon. Ha! ha! ha! And so shall somebody else too.
Yes, yes. Ho! ho! ”

CHAPTER XVIII

THE unexpected success with which his experiment at
Portsmouth had been received induced Mr. Crummies
to prolong his entertainment in that town two weeks longer
than he had originally intended to stay. During this time
Nicholas impersonated a vast variety of characters with
undiminished success and attracted so many people to the
theatre who had never been seen there before that a benefit
was considered by the manager a very promising speculation.
Nicholas assenting to the terms proposed, the benefit 1 was
had, and by it he realised twenty pounds.

Possessed of this unexpected wealth, his first act was to
enclose to honest John Browdie the amount of his friendly
loan, which he accompanied with many expressions of grati¬
tude and esteem and many cordial wishes for his matrimonial
happiness. To Newman Noggs he forwarded one half of
the sum he had realised, entreating him to take an opportunity
of handing it to Kate in secret and conveying to her the

1 A special performance the receipts of which are given some par¬
ticular player or other person. The practice still occurs sometimes
in large cities.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

255

warmest assurances of his love and affection. He made no
mention of the way in which he had employed himself, merely
informing Newman that a letter addressed to him under
his assumed name at the post office, Portsmouth, would
readily find him, and entreating that worthy friend to write
full particulars of the situation of his mother and sister and an
account of all the grand things that Ralph Nickleby had
done for them since his departure from London.

“ You are out of spirits,” said Smike, on the night after
the letter had been sent.

“ Not I!” rejoined Nicholas, with assumed gaiety, for
the confession would have made Smike miserable all night;
“ I was thinking about my sister, Smike.”

“ Sister! ”

“ Aye.”

“ Is she like you?

“ Why, so they say,” replied Nicholas, laughing, “ only a
great deal handsomer.”

“ She must be very beautiful,” said Smike, after thinking
a little while, with his hands folded together, and his eyes
bent upon his friend.

“ Anybody who didn’t know you as well as I do, my
dear fellow, would say you were an accomplished courtier,
said Nicholas.

“ I don’t even know what that is,” replied Smike, shaking
his head. “ Shall I ever see your sister? ”

“ To be sure; we shall all be together one of these days
— when we are rich, Smike.”

“ How is it that you, who are so kind and good to me, have
nobody to be kind to you? I cannot make that out.”

“ Why, it is a long story, and one you would have somet
difficulty in comprehending, I fear. I have an enemy —
you understand what that is?

<{ Qh, yes, I understand that.”

256

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Well, it is owing to him. He is rich, and not so easily
punished as your old enemy, Mr. Squeers. He is my uncle,
but he is a villain, and has done me wrong.”

“ Has he, though? ” asked Smike, bending eagerly forward.
“ What is his name? Tell me his name.”

“ Ralph — Ralph Nickleby.”

“ Ralph Nickleby,” repeated Smike. “ Ralph. I’ll get
that name by heart.”

Nicholas bore his triumph, as he had his success in the
little world of the theatre, with the utmost moderation and
good humour.

“ Well, Smike,” said Nicholas one night when the play was
over, and he had almost finished dressing to go home, " is
there any letter yet ? ”

“ Yes, I got this one from the post office.”

“ From Newman Noggs,” said Nicholas, casting his eye
upon the cramped direction ; “ it’s no easy matter to make his
writing out. Let me see — let me see.”

By studying over the letter for half an hour, he contrived
to make himself master of the contents, which were certainly
not of a nature to set his mind at ease. Newman took upon
himself to send back the ten pounds, observing that neither
Mrs. Nickleby nor Kate was in actual want of money at the
moment and that a time might shortly come when Nicholas
might want it more. He entreated him not to be alarmed
at what he was about to say. There was no bad news —
they were in good health — but he thought circumstances
might occur, or were occurring, which would render it abso¬
lutely necessary that Kate should have her brother’s pro¬
tection; and if so, Newman said, he would write to him to that
effect, either by the next post or the next but one.

Nicholas read this passage very often, and the more he
thought of it, the more he began to fear some treachery upon
the part of Ralph. Once or twice he felt tempted to go to

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

257,

London at all hazards without an hour’s delay, but a little
reflection assured him that, if such a step were necessary,
Newman would have spoken out and told him so at once.

“ At all events I should prepare them here for the possi¬
bility of my going away suddenly. I should lose no time in
doing that.” As the thought occurred to him, he took up
his hat and hurried to the green door.

Mr. Vincent Crummies was no sooner acquainted with
the public announcement which Nicholas had made relative
to the probability of his shortly ceasing to be a member of
the company than he evinced many tokens of grief and con¬
sternation and, in the extremity of his despair, even held out
certain vague promises of a speedy increase in his regular
salary for acting and also more pay for his work as a
theatrical writer.- Finding Nicholas bent upon quitting the
society (for he had now determined that, even if no further
tidings came from Newman, he would, at all hazards, ease
his mind by going to London and ascertaining the exact posi¬
tion of his sister) , Mr. Crummies had to content himself by
calculating the chances of his coming back again and taking
prompt and energetic measures to make the most of him
before he went away.

“ Let me see,” said Mr. Crummies, taking off his outlaw’s
wig, the better to arrive at a cool-headed view of the whole
case. “ Let me see. This is Wednesday night. We’ll have
posters out the first thing in the morning, announcing posi¬
tively your last appearance for tomorrow.”

“ But perhaps it may not be my last appearance, you know ;
unless I am summoned away, I should be sorry to incon¬
venience you by leaving before the end of the week.

“So much the better; we can have positively your last
appearance, on Thursday — reengagement for one night
more, on Friday — and, yielding to the wishes of numerous
influential patrons, who were disappointed in obtaining seats,

258

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

the very last on Saturday. That ought to bring three very
decent houses.”

“ Then I am to make three last appearances, am I? ” in¬
quired Nicholas, smiling.

“ Yes,” rejoined the manager, scratching his head with an
air of some vexation; “three is not enough, and it’s very
bungling and irregular not to have more, but if we can’t help
it, we can’t, so there’s no use in talking.”

Next day the posters appeared, and the public were
informed, in all the colours of the rainbow, that Mr. Johnson
would have the honour of making his last appearance that
evening. It was stated that an early application for places
was requested, in consequence of the extraordinary overflow
attendant on his performances. This was said, because it
is generally a hopeless endeavour to attract people to a
theatre unless they can be first brought to believe that they
will never get into it.

He went through his part in the two last pieces as briskly
as he could, and having been received with unbounded favour
and unprecedented applause — so said the bills for next day,
which had been printed an hour or two before — he took
Smike’s arm and walked home to bed.

With the post next morning came a letter from Newman
Noggs, very inky, very short, very dirty, very small, and
very mysterious, urging Nicholas to return to London in¬
stantly; not to lose an instant; to be there at night if pos¬
sible.

“ I will ! Heaven knows I have remained here for the
best and sorely against my will; but even now I may have
dallied too long. What can have happened? Smike, my
good fellow, here — take my purse. Put our things together,
and pay what little debts we owe — quick, and we shall be
in time for the morning coach. I will only tell them that we
are going, and will return to you immediately.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

259

So saying, he took his hat, and hurrying away to the lodg¬
ings of Mr. Crummies, applied his hand to' the knocker with
such hearty good will that he awakened that gentleman, who
was still in bed.

The door being opened, Nicholas ran upstairs, without any
ceremony, and bursting into the darkened sitting room found
that the two Master Crummleses had sprung out of the sofa-
bedstead and were putting on their clothes with great rapidity,
under the impression that it was the middle of the night, and
the next house was on fire.

Before he could undeceive them, Mr. Crummies came down
in a flannel gown and nightcap; and to him Nicholas briefly
explained that circumstances had occurred which rendered
it necessary for him to go to London immediately.

“So good-by/’ said Nicholas; “good-by, good-by.”

He was half-way downstairs before Mr. Crummies had
sufficiently recovered his surprise to gasp out something about
the posters.

“ I can’t help it; set whatever I may have earned this week
against them, or if that will not repay you, say at once what
will. Quick, quick.”

“ We’ll cry quits about that,” returned Crummies. “ But
can’t we have one last night more? ”

“Not an hour — not a minute,” replied Nicholas, impa¬
tiently. w

“Won’t you stop to say something to Mrs. Crummies?
asked the manager, following him down to the door.

“ I couldn’t stop if it were to prolong my life a score of
years. Here, take my hand, and with it my hearty thanks.
— Oh! that I should have been fooling here! ”

Accompanying these words with an impatient stamp upon
the ground, he tore himself from the managers detaining
grasp and, darting rapidly down the street, was out of sight
in an instant.

260

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Dear me, dear me,” said Mr. Crummies, looking wist¬
fully towards the point at which he had just disappeared;
“ if he only acted like that, what a deal of money he’d draw !
He should have kept upon this circuit; he’d have been
very useful to me. But he don’t know what’s good for
him. He is an impetuous youth. Young men are rash, very
rash.”

Mr. Crummies being in a moralising mood, might possibly
have moralised for some minutes longer if he had not me¬
chanically put his hand towards his waistcoat pocket, where
he was accustomed to keep his snuff. The absence of any
pocket at all in the usual direction suddenly recalled to his
recollection the fact that he had no waistcoat on; and this
leading him to a contemplation of the extreme scantiness
of his attire, he shut the door abruptly and retired upstairs
with great precipitation.

Smike had made good speed while Nicholas was absent,
and with his help everything was soon ready for their de¬
parture. They scarcely stopped to take a morsel of break¬
fast, and in less than half an hour arrived at the coach office,
quite out of breath with the haste they had made to reach it
in time. There were yet a few minutes to spare, so, having
secured the places, Nicholas hurried to a store near by and
bought Smike a greatcoat. It would have been rather large
for a substantial yeoman, but the shopman saying (and with
considerable truth) that it was a most uncommon fit, Nicholas
would have purchased it in his impatience if it had been twice
the size.

As they hurried up to the coach, which was now in the
open street and all ready for starting, Nicholas was greatly
astonished to find himself suddenly clutched in a close and
violent embrace which nearly took him off his legs; nor was
his amazement at all lessened by hearing the voice of Mr.
Crummies exclaim, “ It is he — my friend, my friend! ”

“ Farewell, my noble, my lion-hearted boy ! ”

262

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Bless my heart/’ cried Nicholas, struggling in the man¬
ager’s arms, “ what are you about ? ”

The manager made no reply, but strained him to his
breast again, exclaiming as he did so, “ Farewell, my noble,
my lion-hearted boy ! ”

In fact, Mr. Crummies, who could never lose any oppor¬
tunity for professional display, had turned out for the express
purpose of taking a public farewell of Nicholas; and to
render it the more imposing, he was now, to that young
gentleman’s most profound annoyance, inflicting upon him
a rapid succession of stage embraces, which, as everybody
knows, are performed by the embracer’s laying his or her
chin on the shoulder of the object of affection and looking
over it. This Mr. Crummies did in the highest style of melo¬
drama, pouring forth at the same time all the most dismal
forms of farewell he could think of, out of the stock pieces.
Nor was this all, for the elder Master Crummies was going
through a similar ceremony with Smike; while the Master
Percy Crummies, with a very little second-hand camlet
cloak, worn theatrically over his left shoulder, stood by, in
the attitude of an attendant officer.

The lookers-on laughed very heartily; and as it was as
well to put a good face upon the matter, Nicholas laughed
too when he had succeeded in disengaging himself. Rescuing
the astonished Smike, he climbed up to the coach roof after
him, and kissed his hand in honour of the absent Mrs.
Crummies as they rolled away.

In blissful unconsciousness that his nephew was hasten¬
ing at the utmost speed of four good horses towards his
sphere of action and that every passing minute diminished
the distance between them, Ralph Nickleby sat that morning
occupied in his customary avocations, and yet unable to
prevent his thoughts wandering from time to time back to
the interview which had taken place between himself and
his niece on the previous day.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

263

“ I am not a man to be moved by a pretty face ; there
is a grinning skull beneath it, and men like me who look
and work below the surface see that, and not its delicate
covering. And yet I almost like the girl, or should if she
had been less proudly and squeamishly brought up. If the
boy were drowned or hanged, and the mother dead, this
house should be her home. I wish they were, with all my
soul.”

Notwithstanding the deadly hatred which Ralph felt to¬
wards Nicholas, and the bitter contempt with which he
sneered at poor Mrs. Nickleby — notwithstanding the base¬
ness with which he had behaved, and was then behaving,
and would behave again if his interest prompted him, towards
Kate herself — still there was, strange though it may seem,
something humanising and even gentle in his thoughts at that
moment. He thought of what his home might be if Kate
were there. Gold, for the instant, lost its lustre in his eyes,
for there were countless treasures of the heart which it could
never purchase.

A very slight circumstance was sufficient to banish such
reflections from the mind of such a man. As Ralph looked
vacantly out across the yard towards the window of the
other office, he became suddenly aware of the earnest obser¬
vation of Newman Noggs, who, feigned to be mending a pen
with a rusty fragment of a knife, but was in reality staring
at his employer with a countenance of the closest and most
eager scrutiny.

Ralph exchanged his dreamy posture for his accustomed
business attitude, the face of Newman disappeared, and the
train of thought took to flight.

After a few minutes, Ralph rang his bell. Newman
answered the summons, and Ralph raised his eyes stealthily
to his face, as if he almost feared to read there a knowledge of
his recent thoughts.

There was not the smallest speculation, however, in the

264

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

countenance of Newman Noggs. If it be possible to imagine
a man, with two eyes in his head, and both wide open,
looking in no direction whatever, and seeing nothing, New¬
man appeared to be that man while Ralph Nickleby re¬
garded him.

“ How now? ” growled Ralph.

“ Oh! ” said Newman, throwing some intelligence into his
eyes all at once, and dropping them on his master, “ I thought
you rang.” With which laconic remark Newman turned
round and hobbled away.

“ Stop! ”

Newman stopped; not at all disconcerted.

“ I did ring.”

“ I knew you did.”

“ Then why do you offer to go if you know that ? ”

“ I thought you rang to say you didn’t ring. You often
do.”

“ How dare you pry, and peer, and stare at me, sirrah ? ”

“ Stare ! at you ! Ha, ha ! ” which was all the explanation
Newman deigned to offer.

“ Be careful, sir. Do you see this parcel ? ”

“ It’s big enough.”

“ Carry it into the City; to Cross, in Broad Street, and
leave it there — quick. Do you hear?”

Newman executed his commission with great promptitude
and despatch, but as he returned and had got so far home¬
wards as the Strand, he began to loiter with the uncertain
air of a man who has not quite made up his mind whether
to halt or go straight forwards. After a very short considera¬
tion, the former inclination prevailed, and making towards
the point he had had in his mind, Newman knocked a modest
double knock, or rather a. nervous single one, at Miss La
Creevy’s door.

It was opened by a strange servant, on whom the odd

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

265

figure of the visitor did not make the most favourable im¬
pression, for she no sooner saw him than she nearly closed it
and, placing herself in the narrow gap, inquired what he
wanted. But Newman, merely uttering the word “ Noggs,”
as if it were some magic word at sound of which bolts would
fly back and doors open, pushed briskly past and gained the
door of Miss La Creevy’s sitting room before the astonished
servant could offer any opposition.

“ Walk in, if you please,” said Miss La Creevy, in reply
to the sound of Newman’s knuckles, and in he walked.

“Bless us! ” cried Miss La Creevy, starting, as Newman
bolted in. “ What did you want, sir? ”

“ You have forgotten me,” said Newman, with an inclina¬
tion of the head. “ I wonder at that. That nobody should
remember me who knew me in other days is natural enough ;
but there are few people who, seeing me once, forget me
now.” He glanced as he spoke, at his shabby clothes and
paralytic leg, and slightly shook his head.

“ I did forget you, I declare,” said Miss La Creevy, rising
to receive Newman, who met her half-way, “ and I am
ashamed of myself for doing so; for you are a kind, good
creature, Mr. Noggs. Sit down and tell me all about Miss
Nickleby. Poor dear thing! I haven’t seen her for this
many a week.”

“ How’s that ? ”

“ Why I have been out in the country for quite a while
visiting my brother, Mr. Noggs, or I should have seen her
very often. Kate Nickleby is my dearest friend.”

“ Have you seen the old lady ? ”

“You mean Mrs. Nickleby? Then I tell you what, Mr.
Noggs, if you want to keep in the good books in that quarter,
you had better not call her the ‘ old lady ’ any more, for I
suspect she wouldn’t be best pleased to hear you. Yes, I
went there the night before last, but she was quite on the

266

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

high ropes about something, and was so grand and mysterious
that I couldn’t make anything of her; so, to tell you the
truth, I took it into my head to be grand too and came away
in state. I thought she would have come round again before
this, but she hasn’t been here.”

“ About Miss Nickleby - ” said Newman.

“ Why, she was here twice while I was away. I was afraid
she mightn’t like to have me calling on her among those great
folks in what’s-its-name place, so I thought I’d wait a day
or two, and if I didn’t see her, write.”

“Ah! ” exclaimed Newman, cracking his fingers.

“ However, I want to hear all the news about them from
you; how is the old rough-and-tough monster of Golden
Square? Well, of course; such people always are. I don’t
mean how is he in health, but how is he going on — how is he
behaving himself ? ”

“Blast him! ” cried Newman, dashing his cherished hat
on the floor; “ like a false hound.”

“ Gracious, Mr. Noggs, you quite terrify me! ” exclaimed
Miss La Creevy, turning pale, as Newman darted about the
room, shaking his fist.

“ I should have spoilt his features yesterday afternoon if
I could have afforded it,” said Newman, moving restlessly
about, “ I was very near it. I was obliged to put my hands
in my pockets and keep ’em there very tight. I shall do it
some day in that little back parlour, I know I shall. I should
have done it before now, if I hadn’t been afraid of making
bad worse. I shall double-lock myself in with him and have
it out before I die, I’m quite certain of it.”

“ I shall scream if you don’t compose yourself, Mr. Noggs,
I’m sure I shan’t be able to help it.”

“ Never mind,” rejoined Newman, “ Mr. Nicholas is coming
tonight; I wrote to tell him. Ralph Nickleby little thinks
I know; he little thinks I care. Cunning scoundrel! he don’t

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 267

think that. Not he, not he. Never mind, I’ll thwart him —
I, Newman Noggs. Ho, ho, the rascal! ”

Newman faithfully related all that had passed in the inter¬
view between Kate and her uncle, prefacing his narrative
with a statement of his previous suspicions on the subject
and his reasons for forming them and concluding with a com¬
munication of the step he had taken in secretly writing to
Nicholas.

If Ralph Nickleby had happened to make his appearance
in the room at that moment, there is some doubt whether he
would not have found Miss La Creevy a more dangerous
opponent than even Newman Noggs himself.

“ She won’t stop where she is, after tonight,” said Newman.
“ That’s a comfort.”

“ Stop ! ” cried Miss La Creevy, “ she should have left there
weeks ago.”

“ — If we had known of this,” rejoined Newman. “But
we didn’t. Nobody could properly interfere but her mother
or brother. The mother’s weak — poor thing — weak. The
dear young man will be here tonight.”

“ Heart alive ! He will do something desperate, Mr. Noggs,
if you tell him all at once.”

Newman left off rubbing his hands and assumed a thought¬
ful look.

“ Depend upon it,” said Miss La Creevy, earnestly, “ if
you are not very careful in breaking the truth to him, he will
do some violence upon his uncle or one of these men that
will bring some terrible calamity upon his own head and
grief and sorrow to us all.”

“ I never thought of that,” rejoined Newman, his counte¬
nance falling more and more. “ I came to ask you to receive
his sister in case he brought her here, but - ”

“ But this is a matter of much greater importance,” inter¬
rupted Miss La Creevy, “ that you might have been sure of

268

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

before you came, for the end of this nobody can foresee, unless
you are very guarded and careful.”

“What can I do?” cried Newman, scratching his head
with an air of great vexation and perplexity. “ If he was
to talk of shooting ’em all, I should be obliged to say, ‘ Cer¬
tainly. Serve ’em right.’ ”

Miss La Creevy could not suppress a small shriek on hear¬
ing this, and instantly set about extorting a solemn pledge
from Newman that he would use his utmost endeavours to
pacify the wrath of Nicholas, which, after some demur, was
conceded. They then consulted together on the safest and
surest mode of communicating to Nicholas the circumstances
which had rendered his presence necessary.

“ He must have time to cool before he can possibly do
anything,” said Miss La Creevy. “ That’s of the greatest
consequence. He must not be told until late at night.”

“ But he’ll be in town between six and seven this evening.
I can’t keep it from him when he asks me.”

“ Then you must go out, Mr. Noggs; you can easily have
been kept away by business and must not return till nearly
midnight.”

“ Then he’ll come straight here,” retorted Newman.

“ So I suppose,” observed Miss La Creevy ; “ but he won’t
find me at home, for I’ll go straight to the City the instant you
leave me, make up matters with Mrs. Nickleby, and take
her away to the theatre, so that he may not even know where
his sister lives.”

Upon further discussion, this appeared the safest and most
feasible mode of proceeding that could possibly be adopted.
Therefore it was finally determined that matters should be
so arranged. Newman, after listening to many supple¬
mentary cautions and entreaties, took his leave of Miss La
Creevy and trudged back to Golden Square, ruminating as
he went upon a vast number of possibilities and impossibilities

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

269

which crowded upon his brain and arose out of the conversa¬
tion that had just terminated.

CHAPTER XIX

LONDON at last ! ” cried Nicholas, throwing back his
greatcoat and rousing Smike from a long nap. “ It
seemed to me as though we should never reach it.”

“ And yet you came along at a tidy pace, too,” observed
the coachman, looking over his shoulder at Nicholas with no
very pleasant expression.

“ Ay, I know that, but I have been very anxious to be at
my journey’s end, and that makes the way seem long.”

Nicholas engaged beds for himself and Smike at the inn
where the coach stopped, and repaired, without the delay
of another moment, to the lodgings of Newman Noggs; for
his anxiety and impatience had increased with every suc¬
ceeding minute, and were almost beyond control.

There was a fire in Newman’s garret and a candle had been
left burning; the floor was cleanly swept, the room was as
comfortably arranged as such a room could be, and meat and
drink were placed in order upon the table. Everything
bespoke the affectionate care and attention of Newman
Noggs, but Newman himself was not there.

“ Do you know what time he will be home ? ” inquired
Nicholas, tapping at the door of Newman’s front neighbour.

“ Ah, Mr. Johnson!” said Crowl, presenting himself.
“ Welcome, sir, — how well you’re looking! I never could
have believed - ”

“ Pardon me — my question — I am extremely anxious, to
know.”

“ Why, he has a troublesome affair of business, and will not
be home before twelve o’clock. He was very unwilling to

270

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

go, I can tell ypu, but there was no help for it. However, he
left word that you were to make yourself comfortable till he
came back and that I was to entertain you, which I shall be
very glad to do.”

In proof of his readiness to exert himself for the general
entertainment, Mr. Crowl drew a chair to the table, and help¬
ing himself plentifully to the cold meat, invited Nicholas and
Smike to follow his example.

Disappointed and uneasy, Nicholas could touch no food;
so after he had seen Smike comfortably established at the
table, he walked out and left Smike to detain Newman in case
he returned first.

As Miss La Creevy had anticipated, Nicholas betook him¬
self straight to her house. Finding her from home, he
debated within himself for some time whether he should go
to his mother’s residence. Finally persuaded, however, that
Newman would not have solicited him to return unless there
was some strong reason which required his presence at home,
he resolved to go there, and hastened eastwards with all speed.

Mrs. Nickleby would not be at home, the girl said, until
past twelve, or later. She believed Miss Nickleby was well,
but she didn’t live at home now, nor did she come home except
very seldom. She couldn’t say where she was stopping, but
it was not at Madame Mantalini’s. She was sure of that.

With his heart beating violently and apprehending he
knew not what disaster, Nicholas returned to where he had
left Smike. Newman had not been home. He wouldn’t be,
till twelve o’clock; there was no chance of it. Was there
no possibility of sending to fetch him if it were only for an
instant, or forwarding to him one line of writing to which he
might return a verbal reply? That was quite impracti¬
cable. He was not at Golden Square and probably had been
sent to execute some commission at a distance.

Nicholas tried to remain quietly where he was, but he felt

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

271

so nervous and excited that he could not sit still. He seemed
to be losing time unless he was moving. It was an absurd
fancy, he knew, but he was wholly unable to resist it. So
he took up his hat and rambled out again.

He strolled westward this time, pacing the long streets
with hurried footsteps, and agitated by a thousand misgivings
and apprehensions which he could not overcome. He passed
into Hyde Park, now silent and deserted, and increased his
rate of walking as if in hope of leaving his thoughts behind.
They crowded upon him more thickly, however, especially
the one idea that was always uppermost, that some stroke
of ill-fortune must have occurred, so calamitous in its nature
that all were fearful of disclosing it to him. The old question
arose again and again — what could it be? Nicholas walked
till he was weary, but was not one bit the* wiser; and indeed
he came out of the park at last a great deal more confused
and perplexed than he had gone into it.

He had taken scarcely anything to eat or drink since early
in the morning, and felt quite worn out and exhausted. As
he returned languidly towards the point from which he had
started, along one of the thoroughfares which lie between
Park Lane and Bond Street, he passed a handsome hotel,
before which he stopped mechanically, and walked into the
coffee room.

It was very handsomely furnished. The walls were orna¬
mented with the choicest specimens of French paper, enriched
with a gilded cornice of elegant design. The floor was covered
with a rich carpet; and two superb mirrors, one above the
chimney piece and one at the opposite end of the room
reaching from floor to ceiling, multiplied the other beauties
and added new ones of their own to enhance the general
effect. There was rather a noisy party of four gentlemen
in a box by the fireplace, and only two other persons present
_ both elderly gentlemen, and both alone.

272

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Observing all this in the first glance with which a stranger
surveys a place that is new to him, Nicholas sat himself down
in the box next to the noisy party, with his back towards
them, took up a newspaper, and began to read.

He had not read twenty lines, and was in truth half -dozing,
when he was startled by the mention of his sister’s name.
“ Little Kate Nickleby ” were the words that caught his ear.
He raised his head in amazement, and as he did so, saw by
the reflection in the opposite glass, that two of the party
behind him had risen and were standing before the fire.
“ It must have come from one of them,” thought Nicholas.
He waited to hear more with a countenance of some indig¬
nation, for the tone of speech had been anything but re¬
spectful; and the appearance of the individual whom he
presumed to have* been the speaker was coarse and swag¬
gering.

This person was standing with his back to the fire, convers¬
ing with a younger man, who stood with his back to the
company, wore his hat, and was adjusting his shirt collar.
They spoke in whispers, now and then bursting into a loud
laugh, but Nicholas could catch no repetition of the words,
nor anything sounding at all like the words which had at¬
tracted his attention.

At length the two resumed their seats, and more wine being
ordered, the party grew louder in their mirth. Still there
was no reference made to anybody with whom he was ac¬
quainted, and Nicholas became persuaded that his excited
fanc}r had either imagined the sounds altogether or con¬
verted some other words into the name which had been so
much in his thoughts.

“ It is remarkable too,” thought Nicholas ; “ if it had been
‘ Kate ’■ or 1 Kate Nickleby,’ I should not have been so much
surprised, but ‘ Little Kate Nickleby ’! ”

At that instant —

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

273

“ Little Kate Nickleby! ” cried the voice behind him.

“ I was right,” muttered Nicholas, as the paper fell from
his hand. “ And it was the man I supposed.”

“ As there was a proper objection to drinking her in heel¬
taps,1 well give her the first glass in the new magnum. Little
Kate Nickleby! ”

“ Little Kate Nickleby,” cried the other three. And the
glasses were set down empty.

Keenly alive to the tone and manner of this slight and
careless mention of his sister’s name in a public place, Nicho¬
las fired at once ; but he kept himself quiet by a great effort,
and did not even turn his head.

“The jade! She’s a true Nickleby — a worthy imitator
of her old uncle Ralph — she hangs back to be more sought
after — so does he; nothing to be got out of Ralph unless
you follow him up, and then the money comes doubly wel¬
come, and the bargain doubly hard, for you’re impatient and
he isn’t. Oh! infernal cunning.”

“ Infernal cunning,” echoed two voices.

“ I am afraid that the old woman has grown jea-a-lous, and
locked her up. Upon my soul it looks like it,” said the
younger man.

“ If they quarrel and little Nickleby goes home to her
mother, so much the better; I can do anything with the old
lady. She’ll believe anything I tell her,” answered the other.

“ Egad, that’s true. Ha, ha, ha! Poor deyvle! ”

The laugh was taken up by the two voices which always
came in together and became general at Mrs. Nickleby’s
expense. Nicholas turned burning hot with rage, but
he commanded himself for the moment, and waited to hear
more.

What he heard need not be repeated here. Suffice it that
as the wine went round he heard enough to acquaint him

i A small portion of liquor left in a glass after drinking.

274 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

with the characters and designs of those whose conversation
he overheard, to possess him with the full extent of Ralph s
villainy, and the real reason of his own presence being re¬
quired in London. He heard all this and more. He heard his
sister’s sufferings derided, and her virtuous conduct jeered at
and brutally misconstrued; he heard her name bandied
from mouth to mouth, and herself made the subject of
coarse and insolent wagers, free speech, and licentious
jesting.

The man who had spoken first led the conversation and
indeed almost engrossed it, being only stimulated from time
to time by some slight observation from one or other of his
companions. To him then Nicholas addressed himself when
he was sufficiently composed to stand before the party and
force the words from his parched and scorching throat.

“ Let me have a word with you, sir.”

“ With me, sir? ” retorted Sir Mulberry Hawk, eyeing him
in disdainful surprise.

“ I said with you.”

“A mysterious stranger, upon my soul! ” exclaimed Sir
Mulberry, raising his wine glass to his lips and looking round
upon his friends.

“ Will you step apart with me for a few minutes, or do
you refuse ? ”

Sir Mulberry merely paused in the act of drinking and
bade him either name his business or leave the table.

Nicholas drew a card from his pocket and threw it before
him.

“ There, sir; my business you will guess.”

A momentary expression of astonishment, not unmixed
with some confusion, appeared in the face of Sir Mulberry as
he read the name; but he subdued it in an instant and, tossing
the card to Lord Frederick Verisopht, who sat opposite, drew
a toothpick from a glass before him and very leisurely ap¬
plied it to his mouth.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 275

“Your name and address?” said Nicholas, turning paler
as his passion kindled.

“ I shall give you neither.”

“ If there is a gentleman in this party,” said Nicholas,
looking round and scarcely able to make his white lips form
the words, “ he will acquaint me with the name and residence
of this man.”

There was a dead silence.

“ I am the brother of the young lady who has been the
subject of conversation here. I denounce this person as a liar
and impeach him as a coward. If he has a friend here, he
will save him the disgrace of the paltry attempt to conceal
his name — an utterly useless one — for I will find it out,
nor leave him until I have.”

Sir Mulberry looked at him contemptuously and, address¬
ing his companions, said —

“Let the fellow talk. I have nothing serious to say to
boys of his station; and his pretty sister shall save him a
broken head, if he talks till midnight.”

“You are a base and spiritless scoundrel, and shall be
proclaimed so to the world. I will know you; I will follow
you home if you walk the streets till morning.”

Sir Mulberry’s hand involuntarily closed upon the decanter,
and he seemed for an instant about to launch it at the head
of his challenger. But he only filled his glass and laughed in
derision.

Nicholas sat himself down, directly opposite to this man
and, summoning the waiter, said,

“ Do you know that person’s name? ”

Sir Mulberry laughed again, and two voices which had
always spoken together, echoed the laugh, but rather feebly.

“ That gentleman, sir? ” replied the waiter, who, no doubt,
knew his cue and answered with just as little respect and just
as much impertinence as he could safely show: no, sir, I
do not, sir.”

276

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Here, you, sir! ” cried Sir Mulberry, as the man was
retiring. “ Do you know that person’s name.”

“Name, sir? No, sir.”

“ Then you’ll find it there,” said Sir Mulberry, throwing
Nicholas’s card towards him, “ and when you have made
yourself master of it, put that piece of pasteboard in the
fire.”

The man grinned, and, looking doubtfully at Nicholas,
compromised the matter by sticking the card in the chimney
glass. Having done this, he retired. Nicholas folded his
arms, and, biting his lip, sat perfectly quiet, expressing by
his manner the determination of following Sir Mulberry home.

It was evident from the tone in which the younger mem¬
ber of the party appeared to remonstrate with his friend that
he objected to this course of proceeding and urged him to
comply with the request which Nicholas had made. Sir
Mulberry, however, who Was not quite sober and who was
in a sullen and dogged state of obstinacy, soon silenced his
weak young friend and seemed to insist on being left alone.
However this might have been, the young gentleman and
the two who had always spoken together actually rose to go
after a short interval and presently retired, leaving their
friend alone with Nicholas.

It will be very readily supposed that to one in the condi¬
tion of Nicholas the minutes appeared to move with leaden
wings indeed and that their progress did not seem the more
rapid from the monotonous ticking of a French clock or
the shrill sound of its little bell which told the quarters.
But there he sat; and in his old seat on the opposite side of
the room reclined Sir Mulberry Hawk, with his legs upon
the cushion, and his handkerchief thrown negligently over
his knees, finishing his bottle of claret with the utmost cool¬
ness and indifference.

Thus they remained in perfect silence for upwards of an

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

277

hour — Nicholas would have thought for three hours at
least, but that the little bell had only gone four times. Twice
or thrice he looked angrily and impatiently round; but Sir
Mulberry was in the same attitude, putting his glass to his lips
from time to time and looking vacantly at the wall, as if he
were wholly ignorant of the presence of any living person.

At length he yawned, stretched himself, and rose, walked
coolly to the glass and, having surveyed himself therein,
turned round and honoured Nicholas with a long and con¬
temptuous stare. Nicholas stared again with right good
will; Sir Mulberry shrugged his shoulders, smiled slightly,
rang the bell, and ordered the waiter to help him on with his
greatcoat.

The man did so, and held the door open.

“ Don’t wait,” said Sir Mulberry, and they were alone
again.

Sir Mulberry took several turns up and down the room,
whistling carelessly all the time, stopped to finish the last
glass of claret which he had poured out a few minutes before,
walked again, put on his hat, adjusted it by the glass, drew
on his gloves, and, at last, walked slowly out. Nicholas, who
had been fuming and chafing until he was nearly wild, darted
from his seat, and followed him so closely that before the
door had swung upon its hinges after Sir Mulberry’s passing
out they stood side by side in the street together.

There was a private cabriolet in waiting. The groom
opened the apron and jumped out to the horse’s head.

“ Will you make yourself known to me? ” asked Nicholas in
a suppressed voice.

“ No,” replied the other fiercely and confirming the refusal
with an oath. “ No.”

“ If you trust to your horse’s speed, you will find yourself
mistaken. I will accompany you. By heaven I will, if I
hang on to the footboard! ”

,278

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ You shall be horsewhipped if you do.”

“ You are a villain.”

“ You are an errand boy for aught I know.”

“ I am the son of a country gentleman, your equal in birth
and education and your superior, I trust, in everything be¬
sides. I tell you again, Miss Nickleby is my sister. Will
you or will you not answer for your unmanly and brutal
conduct ? ”

“To a proper champion — yes. To you — no,” returned
Sir Mulberry, taking the reins in his hand. “ Stand out of
the way, dog. William, let go her head.”

“ You had better not,” cried Nicholas, springing on the
step as Sir Mulberry jumped in, and catching at the reins.
“ He has no command over the horse, mind. You shall not
go — you shall not, I swear, till you have told me who you
are.”

The groom hesitated, for the mare, who was a high-
spirited animal and thoroughbred, plunged so violently that
he could scarcely hold her.

“ Leave go, I tell you! ” thundered his master.

The man obeyed. The animal reared and plunged as
though it would dash the carriage into a thousand pieces,
but Nicholas, blind to all sense of danger, and conscious of
nothing but his fury, still maintained his place and his hold
upon the reins.

“Will you unclasp your hand?”

“ Will you tell me who you are? ”

“ No! ”

“No!”

In less time than the quickest tongue could tell it these
words were exchanged, and Sir Mulberry, shortening his
whip, applied it furiously to the head and shoulders of
Nicholas. It was broken in the struggle; Nicholas gained
the heavy handle, and with it laid open one side of his

279

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

antagonist’s face from the eye to the lip. He saw the gash,
knew that the mare had darted off at a wild mad gallop; a
hundred lights danced in his eyes, and he felt himself flung
violently upon the ground.

He was giddy and sick, but staggered to his feet directly,
roused by the loud shouts of the men who were tearing up
the street, and screaming to those ahead to clear the way.
He was conscious of a torrent of people rushing quickly by
— looking up, could discry the cabriolet whirled along the
foot pavement with frightful rapidity — then heard a loud
crv, the smashing of some heavy body, and the breaking of
glass — and then the crowd closed in in the distance, and he
could see or hear no more.

The general attention had been entirely directed from him¬
self to the person in the carriage, and he was quite alone.
Rightly judging that under such circumstances it would be
madness to follow, he turned down a by-street in search of the
nearest coach stand, finding after a minute or two that he
was reeling like a drunken man, and aware for the first time
of a stream of blood that was trickling down his face and
breast.

CHAPTER XX

SMIKE and Newman Noggs sat before the fire, listening
anxiously to every footstep on the stairs, and the slightest
sound that stirred within the house, for the approach of
Nicholas. Time had worn on, and it was growing late. He
had promised to be back in an hour, and his prolonged absence
began to excite considerable alarm.

At length a coach was heard to stop, and Newman ran out
to light Nicholas up the stairs. Beholding him in the trim
described at the conclusion of the last chapter, he stood
aghast in wonder and consternation.

280

NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y

“ Don’t be alarmed/’ said Nicholas, hurrying him back
into the room. “There is no harm done beyond what a
basin of water can repair.”

“No harm! ” cried Newman, passing his hands hastily
over the back and arms of Nicholas, as if to assure himself
that he had broken no bones. “ What have you been doing ? ”

“I know all; I have heard a part and guessed the rest.
But before I remove one jot of these stains, I must hear the
whole from you. My resolution is taken. Now, my good
friend, speak out; for the time for any palliation or conceal¬
ment is past, and nothing will avail Ralph Nickleby now.”

“Your clothes are torn in several places; you walk lame,
and I am sure are suffering pain. Let me see to your hurts
first.”

“ I have no hurts to see to beyond a little soreness and
stiffness that will soon pass off. But if I had fractured every
limb and still preserved my senses, you should not bandage
one till you had told me what I have the right to know.
Come,” giving his hand to Noggs. “ You had a sister of
your own, you told me once, who died before you fell into
misfortune. Now think of her, and tell me, Newman.”

“Yes, I will, I will. I’ll tell you the whole truth.”

Newman did so. Nicholas nodded his head from time to
time, as it corroborated the particulars he had already
gleaned; but he fixed his eyes upon the fire and did not look
round once.

His recital ended, Newman insisted upon his young friend’s
stripping off his coat and allowing whatever injuries he had
received to be properly tended. Nicholas, after some op¬
position, at length consented and, while some pretty severe
bruises on his arms and shoulders were being rubbed with
remedies which Newman borrowed from the different lodgers,
related in what manner they had been received.

Nicholas arranged with Newman for his mother’s imme-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

281

diately leaving her present residence, and also for sending
Miss La Creevy to break the intelligence to her. He then
wrapped himself in Smike’s greatcoat and went with him to
the inn where they were to pass the night, and where (after
writing a few lines to Ralph the delivery of which was to be
intrusted to Newman next day) he endeavored to obtain the
repose of which he stood so much in need.

Although Nicholas experienced some pain on first awaken¬
ing next morning, he sprang out of bed as the clock struck
seven, with very little difficulty, and was soon as much on the
alert as if nothing had occurred.

Merely looking into Smike’s room and telling him that
Newman Noggs would call for him very shortly, Nicholas
descended into the street and, calling a hackney coach, bade
the man drive to Mrs. Witterly’s, according to the direction
which Newman had given him on the previous night.

It was a quarter to eight when they reached her home.
Nicholas began to fear that no one might be stirring at that
early hour, when he was relieved by the sight of a female
servant, employed in cleaning the door steps. By this
functionary he was referred to the doubtful page, who ap¬
peared with dishevelled hair and a very warm and glossy face,
as of a page who had just got out of bed.

By this young gentleman he was informed that Miss
Nickleby was then taking her morning’s walk in the gardens
before the house. On the question being asked whether he
could go and find her, the page desponded and thought not;
being stimulated with a shilling, the page grew hopeful and
thought he could.

“Say to Miss Nickleby that her brother is here and in
great haste to see her.”

The plated buttons disappeared with an alacrity most un¬
usual to them, and Nicholas paced the room in a state of
feyerish agitation which made the delay even of a minute

282 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

insupportable. He soon heard a light footstep which he
well knew, and before he could advance to meet her, Kate
had fallen on his neck and was crying uncontrollably for a
few moments as she clung to him.

“ My darling girl,” said Nicholas as he embraced her,

“ how pale you are ! ”

“ I have been so unhappy here, dear brother,” sobbed poor
Kate, “ so very, very miserable. Do not leave me here,
dear Nicholas, or I shall die of a broken heart.”

“ I will leave you nowhere, never again, Kate,” said
Nicholas, greatly affected in spite of himself as he folded her to
his heart. “ Tell me that I acted for the best. Tell me that we
parted because I feared to bring misfortune on your head, that
it was a trial to me no less than to yourself, and that if I did
wrong it was in ignorance of the world and unknowingly.

“ Why should I tell you what we know so well? Nicholas
— dear Nicholas — how can you give way! ” for he could
not control his voice and for a moment seemed overcome with
grief.

This question was most opportunely put, for at that
instant Mr. Witterly walked in, and to him Kate introduced
her brother, who at once announced his purpose. They had
both become calm at the entrance of this man.

“ The quarter’s notice,” said Mr. Witterly, with the gravity
of a man on the right side, “ is not yet half expired. There¬
fore - ”

“ Therefore,” interposed Nicholas, “ the quarter’s salary
must be lost, sir. You will excuse this extreme haste, but
circumstances require that I should immediately remove my
sister, and I have not a moment’s time to lose. Whatever
she brought here I will send for, if you will allow me, in the
course of the day.”

Mr. Witterly bowed, but offered no opposition to Kate’s
immediate departure; with which, indeed, he was rather

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

283

gratified than otherwise, Dr. Tumley Snuffim having given
it as his opinion that she rather disagreed with Mrs Wit-
terly’s constitution.

“ With regard to the trifle of salary that is due,” said Mr.

Witterly, “ I will - ” here he was interrupted by a violent

fit of coughing — “I will — owe it to Miss Nickleby.”

“ If you please,” said Nicholas. And once more offering
a hurried apology for so sudden a departure, he hurried Kate
into the vehicle and bade the man drive with all speed into
the City.

Nicholas sent Kate upstairs a few minutes before him,
that his unlooked-for appearance might not alarm his
mother, and when the way had been paved, presented him¬
self with much duty and affection. • Newman had not been
idle, for there was a little cart at the door, and their few
belongings were being hurried out already.

Now, Mrs. Nickleby was not the sort of person to be
told anything in a hurry, or rather to comprehend anything
on a short notice. Wherefore, although the good lady had
been subjected to a full hour’s preparation by little Miss La
Creevy, and was now addressed in most lucid terms both by
Nicholas and his sister, she was in a state of singular be¬
wilderment and confusion and could by no means be made to
comprehend the necessity of such hurried proceedings.

“ Why don’t you ask your uncle, my dear Nicholas, what
he can possibly mean by it? ”

“ My dear mother, the time for talking has gone by. There
is but one step to take, and that is to cast him off with the
scorn and indignation he deserves. Your own honour and
good name demand that. After the discovery of his vile
proceedings, you should not be beholden to him one hour,
even for the shelter of these bare walls.”

“ To be sure,” said Mrs. Nickleby, crying bitterly, “he
is a brute, a monster; and the walls are very bare, and want

284 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

painting too, and I have had this ceiling white-washed at
the expense of eighteenpence, which is a very distressing thing,
considering that it is so much gone into your uncle’s pocket.
I never could have believed it — never.”

“ Nor I, nor anybody else.”

“ Lord bless my life! To think that that Sir Mulberry
Hawk should be such an abandoned wretch as Miss La
Creevy says he is, Nicholas, my dear, when I was congratu¬
lating myself every day on his being an admirer of our dear
Kate’s, and thinking what a thing it would be for the family
if he was to become connected with us, and use his interest
to get you some profitable government place. There are
very good places to be got about the court, I know; for a
friend of ours (Mr. Cropley, at Exeter, my dear Kate, you
recollect) he had one, and I know that it was the chief part
of his duty to wear silk stockings, and a bagwig like a black
watch pocket; and to think that it should come to this after
all — 0h, dear, dear, it’s enough to kill one, that it is.” With
which expressions of sorrow, Mrs. Nickleby gave fresh vent
to her grief and wept piteously.

As Nicholas and his sister were by this time compelled
to superintend the removal of the few articles of furniture,
Miss La Creevy devoted herself to the consolation of the
matron and observed with great kindness of manner that she
must really make an effort and cheer up.

“ Oh, I dare say, Miss La Creevy,” returned Mrs. Nickleby,
with a petulance not unnatural in her unhappy circumstances,
“ it’s very easy to say cheer up, but if you had as many
occasions to cheer up as I have had — and there,” said Mrs.
Nickleby, stopping short, “think of Mr. Pyke and Mr.
Pluck, two of the most perfect gentlemen that ever lived,
what am I to say to them — what can I say to them ? ; Why,
if I was to say to them, ‘ I’m told your friend Sir Mulberry
is a base wretch,’ they’d laugh at me.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

285

“ They will laugh no more at us, I take it,” said Nicholas,
advancing. “ Come, mother, there is a coach at the door,
and until Monday, at all events, we will return to our old
quarters.”

“ Where everything is ready, and a hearty welcome into
the bargain,” added Miss La Creevy. “ Now, let me go
with you downstairs.”

But Mrs. Nickleby was not to be so easily moved. First
she insisted on going upstairs to see that nothing had been
left, and then on going downstairs to see that everything had
been taken away; and when she was getting into the coach,
she had a vision of a forgotten coffee-pot by the back-
kitchen hob and, after she was shut in, a dismal recollection
of a green umbrella behind some unknown door. At last
Nicholas, in a condition of absolute despair, ordered the
coachman to drive aw^ay, and in the jerk of a sudden starting,
Mrs. Nickleby lost a shilling among the straw, which for¬
tunately confined her attention to the coach until it was too
late to remember anything else.

Having seen everything safely out, discharged the servant,
and locked the door, Nicholas jumped into a cabriolet and
drove to a place near Golden Square where he had appointed
to meet Noggs, and so quickly had everything been done that
it was barely half-past nine when he reached the place of
meeting.

“ Here is the letter for Ralph,” said Nicholas, “ and here
the key. When you come to me this evening, not a word of
last night. Ill news travels fast, and they will know it soon
enough. Have you heard if he was much hurt.”

Newman shook his head.

“ I will ascertain that, myself, without loss of time.”

“ You had better take some rest. You are fevered and ill,”
said Noggs.

Nicholas waved his hand carelessly, and concealing the

286

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

indisposition he really felt, now that the excitement which
had sustained him was over, took a hurried farewell of New¬
man Noggs, and left him.

Newman was not three minutes’ walk from Golden Square,
but in the course of that three minutes he took the letter
out of his hat and put it in again twenty times at least.
First the front, then the back, then the sides, then the super¬
scription, then the seal were objects of Newman’s admiration.
Then he held it at arm’s length as if to take in the whole at
one delicious survey, and then he rubbed his hands, in a
perfect ecstasy with his commission.

He reached the office, hung his hat on the accustomed
peg, laid the letter and key upon the desk, and waited im¬
patiently until Ralph Nickleby should appear. After a few
minutes, the well-known creaking of his boots was heard on
the stairs, and then the bell rang.

“ Has the post come in? ”

“ No.”

“ Any other letters ? ”

“ One.” Newman eyed him closely, and laid it on his
desk with the key.

“ What’s this? ” asked Ralph, taking up the key.

“ Left with the letter; — a boy brought them — quarter of
an hour ago, or less.”

Ralph opened the letter and read:

You are known to me now. There are no reproaches I
could heap upon your head which would carry with them
one thousandth part of the grovelling shame that this
assurance will awaken even in your breast.

Your brother’s widow and her orphan child spurn the
shelter of your roof and shun you with disgust and loathing.
Your kindred renounce you, for they know no shame but
the ties of blood which bind them in name to you.

You are an old man, and I leave you to the grave. May
every recollection of your life cling to your false heart
and cast their darkness on your death bed.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

287

Ralph Nickleby read this letter twice and, frowning heavily,
fell into a fit of musing. The paper fluttered from his hand
and dropped upon the floor, but he clasped his fingers, as if
he held it still.

Suddenly, he started from his seat and, thrusting it all
crumpled into his pocket, turned furiously to Newman Noggs,
as though to ask him why he lingered. But Newman stood
unmoved, with his back towards him, following up, with the
worn and blackened stump of an old pen some figures in an
interest table which was pasted against the wall, and appar¬
ently quite abstracted from every other object.

CHAPTER XXI

HAT a demnition long time you have kept me ringing

at this confounded old cracked teakettle of a bell,

every tinkle of which is enough to throw a strong man into
blue convulsions, upon my life and soul, oh demmit,” said
Mr. Mantalini to Newman Noggs, scraping his boots, as he
spoke, on Ralph Nickleby’s scraper.

“ I didn’t hear the bell more than once,” replied Newman.

“Then you are most immensely and outrageously deaf,
as deaf as a demnition post.”

Mr. Mantalini had got by this time into the passage, and
was making his way to the door of Ralph’s office with very
little ceremony, when Newman interposed his body and,
hinting that Mr. Nickleby was unwilling to be disturbed,
inquired whether the client’s business was of a pressing
nature.

“It is most demnebly particular. It is to melt some
scraps of dirty paper into bright, shining, chinking, tinkling,
demd mint sauce.”

Newman uttered a significant grunt and, taking Mr. Man-

288

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

talini’s proffered card, limped with it into his master s
office. As he thrust his head in at the door, he saw that
Ralph had resumed the thoughtful posture into which he had
fallen after perusing his nephew’s letter, and that he seemed
to have been reading it again, as he once more held it open
in his hand. The glance was but momentary, for Ralph,
being disturbed, turned to demand the cause of the interrup¬
tion.

As Newman stated it, the cause himself swaggered into
the room and, grasping Ralph’s horny hand with uncommon
affection, vowed that he had never seen him looking so well
in all his life.

“ There is quite a bloom upon your demd countenance,”
said Mr. Mantalini, seating himself unbidden and arranging
his hair and whiskers. “You look quite juvenile and jolly,
demmit! ”

“ We are alone,” returned Ralph, tartly. “ What do you
want with me ? ”

“Good!” cried Mr. Mantalini, displaying his teeth.
“What did I want! Ha, ha! Very good. What did I
want. Ha, ha. Oh dem! ”

“ What do you want, man? ” demanded Ralph, sternly.

“ Demnition discount,” returned Mr. Mantalini, with a
grin, and shaking his head waggishly.

“ Money is scarce.”

“ Demd scarce, or I shouldn’t want it.”

“ The times are bad, and one scarcely knows whom to
trust,” continued Ralph. “ I don’t want to do business just
now; in fact, I would rather not; but as you are a friend —
how many bills have you there ? ”

“ Two.”

“ What is the gross amount? ”

“ Demd trifling. Five-and-seventy.”

“ And the dates ? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

289

“ Two months, and four.”

“I’ll do them for you — mind, for you; I wouldn’t for
many people — for five-and-twenty pounds,” said Ralph,
deliberately.

“ Oh demmit ! ” cried Mr. Mantalini, whose face lengthened
considerably at this handsome proposal.

“ Why, that leaves you fifty. What would you have?
Let me see the names.”

“ You are so demd hard, Nickleby.”

“ Let me see the names,” replied Ralph, impatiently ex¬
tending his hand for the bills. “ Well! They are not sure,
but safe enough. Do you consent to the terms, and will
you take the money? I don’t want you to do so. I would
rather you didn’t.”

“ Demmit, Nickleby, can’t you - ”

“ No, I can’t. Will you take the money — down, mind;
no delay, no going into the City and pretending to negotiate
with some other party who has no existence and never had.
Is it a bargain, or is it not? ”

Ralph pushed some papers from him as he spoke and
carelessly rattled his cash box, as though by mere accident.
The sound was too much for Mr. Mantalini. He closed
the bargain directly it reached his ears, and Ralph told the
money out upon the table.

Scarcely had he done so, and Mr. Mantalini had not yet
gathered it all up, when a ring was heard at the bell, and
immediately afterwards Newman ushered in no less a person
than Madame Mantalini, at sight of whom Mr. Mantalini
evinced considerable discomposure, and swept the cash into
his pocket with remarkable alacrity.

“ Oh, you are here,” said Madame Mantalini, tossing her
head.

“ Yes, my life and soul, I am,” replied her husband, drop¬
ping on his knees, and pouncing with kittenlike playfulness

290

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

upon a stray sovereign. “ I am here, my soul’s delight, upon
Tom Tiddler’s ground, picking up the demnition gold and
silver.”

“ I am ashamed of you,” said Madame Mantalini, with
much indignation.

“Ashamed? Of me, my joy? It knows it is talking
demd charming sweetness, but naughty fibs. It knows it
is not ashamed of its own popolorum tibby.”

Madame Mantalini only looked scornful in reply, and,
turning to Ralph, begged him to excuse her intrusion.

“ Which is entirely attributable,” said madame, “ to the
gross misconduct and most improper behaviour of Mr.
Mantalini.”

“ Of me, my essential juice of pineapple! ”

“ Of you,” returned his wife. “ But I will not swallow it.
I will not submit to be ruined by the extravagance and
profligacy of any man. I call Mr. Nickleby to witness the
course I intend to pursue with you.”

“ Pray don’t call me to witness anything, ma’am,” said
Ralph. “ Settle it between yourselves, settle it between
yourselves.”

“ No, but I must beg you as a favour to hear me give him
notice of what it is my fixed intention to do — my fixed in¬
tention, sir,” repeated Madame Mantalini, darting an angry
look at her husband.

“ Will she call me 1 sir ’ ! Me who dote upon her with the
demdest ardour! She, who coils her fascinations round me
like a pure and angelic rattlesnake! It will be all up with
my feelings; she will throw me into a demd state.”

“ Don’t talk of feelings, sir. You don’t consider mine.”

“ I do not consider yours, my soul ! ”

“ No.”

And notwithstanding various blandishments on the part of
Mr. Mantalini, Madame Mantalini still said no, and said

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 291

it too with such determined and resolute ill temper that Mr.
Mantalini was clearly taken aback.

“ His extravagance, Mr. Nicklebv, is beyond all bounds.”

“ I should scarcely have supposed it.”

“ I assure you, Mr. Nickleby, however, that it is. It
makes me miserable. I am under constant apprehensions
and in constant difficulty. And even this,” wiping her eyes,
“ is not the worst. He took some papers of value out of my
desk this morning without asking my permission.”

Mr. Mantalini groaned slightly and buttoned his trousers
pocket.

“ I am obliged since our last misfortunes to pay Miss Knag
a great deal of money for having her name in the business,
and I really cannot afford to encourage him in all his waste¬
fulness. As I have no doubt that he came straight here, Mr.
Nickleby, to convert the papers I have spoken of, into money,
and as you have assisted us very often before, I wish you to
know the determination at which his conduct has compelled
me to arrive.”

Mr. Mantalini groaned once more from behind his wife’s
bonnet, and fitting a sovereign into one of his eyes, winked
the other at Ralph. Having achieved this performance with
great dexterity, he whipped the coin into his pocket, and
groaned again with increased penitence.

“ I have made up my mind to allowance him.”

“ To do what, my joy? ” inquired Mr. Mantalini, but his
wife did not answer him. She was looking at Ralph and
prudently abstaining from the slightest glance at her hus¬
band, lest his many graces should induce her to falter in her
resolution.

She repeated, “ I am going to put him upon a fixed al¬
lowance; and I say that if he has a hundred and twenty
pounds a year for his clothes and pocket money, he may
consider himself a very fortunate man.”

292

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Mr. Mantalini waited to hear the amount; but when it
reached his ears, he cast his hat and cane upon the floor,
and drawing out his pocket handkerchief, gave vent to his
feelings in a dismal moan.

“ Demnition ! But no. It is a demd horrid dream.
It is not reality. No! ”

Comforting himself with this assurance, Mr. Mantalini
closed his eyes and waited patiently till such time as he
should wake up.

“ A very judicious arrangement,” observed Ralph with a
sneer, “ if your husband will keep within it, ma’am — as no
doubt he will.”

“ Demmit ! it is a horrid reality. She is sitting there before
me. There is the graceful outline of her form; it cannot be
mistaken — there is nothing like it. The two countesses had
no outlines at all, a$d the dowager’s was a demd outline.
Why is she so excruciatingly beautiful that I cannot be
angry with her, even now ? ”

“You have brought it all upon yourself, Alfred,” still
reproachfully, but in a softened tone.

“lama demd villain ! I will fill my pockets with change
for a sovereign in halfpence and drown myself in the Thames ;
but I will not be angry with her even then, for I will put a
note in the twopenny post as I go along to tell her where the
body is. She will be a lovely widow. I shall be a body.
Some handsome women will cry; she will laugh demnebly.”

“ Alfred, you cruel, cruel creature,” said Madame Man¬
talini, sobbing at the dreadful picture.

“ She calls me cruel — me — me — who for her sake will
become a demd, damp, moist, unpleasant body! ”

“ You know it almost breaks my heart, even to hear you
talk of such a thing.”

“ Can I live to be mistrusted? Have I cut my heart into
a demd extraordinary number of little pieces and given them

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

293

all away, one after another, to the same little engrossing
demnition captivator, and can I live to be suspected by her !
Demmit, no, I can’t.”

“Ask Mr. Nickleby whether the sum I have mentioned
is not a proper one,” reasoned Madame Mantalini.

“ I don’t want any sum. I shall require no demd allow¬
ance. I will be a body.”

On this repetition of Mr. Mantalini’s fatal threat, Madame
Mantalini wrung her hands and implored the interference
of Ralph Nickleby; and after a great quantity of tears and
talking and several attempts on the part of Mr. Mantalini
to reach the door, preparatory to straightway committing
violence upon himself, that gentleman was prevailed upon,
with difficulty, to promise that he wouldn’t be a body. This
great point attained, Madame Mantalini argued the question
of the allowance, and Mr. Mantalini did the same, taking
occasion to show that he could live with uncommon satisfac¬
tion upon bread and water, and go clad in rags, but that he
could not support existence with the additional burden of
being mistrusted by the object of his most devoted and dis¬
interested affection. This brought fresh tears into Madame
Mantalini’s eyes, having just begun to open to some few of
the demerits of Mr. Mantalini, but they were only open a
very little way, and could be easily closed again. The result
was that, without quite giving up the allowance question,
Madame Mantalini postponed its further consideration; and
Ralph saw clearly enough that Mr. Mantalini had gained a
fresh lease on his easy life and that, for some time longer at
all* events, his degradation and downfall were postponed.

“But it will come soon enough,” thought Ralph; “all
love — bah ! That I should use the cant of boys and girls
— is fleeting enough ; though that which has its sole root in
the admiration of a whiskered face like that of yonder baboon
perhaps lasts the longest, as it originates in the greater

294

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

blindness and is fed by vanity. Meantime the fools bring
grist to my mill, so let them live out their day, and the longer
it is, the better.”

These agreeable reflections occurred to Ralph Nickleby,
as sundry small caresses and endearments, supposed to be
unseen, were exchanged between the objects of his thoughts.

“ If you have nothing more to say, my dear, to Mr.
Nickleby,” said Madame Mantalini, “we will take our
leave. I am sure we have detained him much too long
already.”

Mr. Mantalini answered, in the first instance, by tapping
Madame Mantalini several times on the nose, and then by re¬
marking, in words, that he had nothing more to say.

“ Demmit ! I have, though,” he added, almost immedi¬
ately, drawing Ralph into a corner. “ Here’s an affair about
your friend Sir Mulberry. Such a demd extraordinary out-
of-the-way kind of thing as never was.”

“ What do you mean? ”

“ Don’t you know, demmit ? ”

“ I see by the paper that he was thrown from his cabriolet
last night and severely injured and that his life is in some
danger, but I see nothing extraordinary in that. Accidents
are not miraculous events when men live hard and drive after
dinner.”

“Whew! ” cried Mr. Mantalini in a long shrill whistle.
“ Then don’t you know how it was ? ”

“ Not unless it was as I have just supposed,” replied
Ralph, shrugging his shoulders carelessly, as if to give his
questioner to understand that he had no curiosity upon the
subject.

“ Demmit, you amaze me ! ”

Ralph shrugged his shoulders again, as if it were no great
feat to amaze Mr. Mantalini, and cast a wistful glance at
the face of Newman Noggs, which had several times appeared

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

295

behind a couple of panes of glass in the room door; it being
part of Newman’s duty, when unimportant people called,
to make various feints of supposing that the bell had rung
for him to show them out, by way of gentle hint to such
visitors that it was time to go.

“ Don’t you know,” said Mr. Mantalini, taking Ralph by
the button, “ that it wasn’t an accident at all, but a demd,
furious, manslaughter attack made upon him by your
nephew ? ”

“ What ! ” snarled Ralph, clenching his fists and turning
a livid white.

“Demmit, Nickleby, you’re as great a tiger as he is,”
said Mantalini, alarmed at these demonstrations.

“Go on, tell me what you mean. What is this story?
Who told you ? Speak, do you hear me ? ”

“ Gad, Nickleby,” said Mr. Mantalini, retreating towards
his wife, “ what a demneble fierce old evil genius you are !
You’re enough to frighten my life and soul out of her little
delicious wits — flying all at once into such a blazing, ravag¬
ing, raging passion as never was, demmit ! ”

“ Pshaw,” rejoined Ralph, forcing a smile. “ It is but
manner.”

“ It is a demd uncomfortable, private-madhouse-sort of
manner,” said Mr. Mantalini, picking up his cane.

Ralph affected to smile, and once more inquired from whom
Mr. Mantalini had derived his information.

“ From Pyke. And a demd fine, pleasant, gentlemanly
dog it is.”

“ And what said he? ” asked Ralph, knitting his brows.

“ That it happened this way — that your nephew met him
at a coffeehouse, fell upon him with the most demneble
ferocity, followed him to his cab, swore he would ride home
with him, if he rode upon the horse’s back or hooked himself
on to the horse’s tail, smashed his countenance, which is a

296

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

demd fine countenance in its natural state, frightened the
horse, pitched out Sir Mulberry and himself, and - ”

“ And was killed? ” interposed Ralph with gleaming eyes.
“ Was he? Is he dead?”

Mantalini shook his head.

“ Ugh,” said Ralph, turning away. “ Then he has done
nothing. Stay!” he added, looking around again. “He
broke a leg or an arm, or put his shoulder out, or fractured
his collar bone, or ground a rib or two? His neck was saved
for the halter, but he got some painful and slow-healing
injury for his trouble ? Did he ? You must have heard that,
at least.”

“ No,” rejoined Mantalini, shaking his head again. “ Un¬
less he was dashed into such little pieces that they blew
away, he wasn’t hurt, for he went off as quiet and comfortable
as — as — as demnition,” said Mr. Mantalini, rather at a loss
for a simile.

“ And what,” said Ralph, hesitating a little, “ what was the
cause of the quarrel? ”

“ You are the demdest, knowing hand,” replied Mr. Man¬
talini, in an admiring tone, “ the cunningest, rummest, super-
lativest old fox — oh dem ! — to pretend now not to know
that it was the little bright-eyed niece — the softest, sweetest,
prettiest - ”

“Alfred! ” interposed Madame Mantalini.

“ She is always right,” rejoined Mr. Mantalini, soothingly;
“ and when she says it is time to go, it is time, and go she
shall; and when she walks alorig the streets with her own
tulip, the women shall say with envy, she has got a demd
fine husband; and the men shall say with rapture, he has
got a demd fine wife; and they shall both be right and neither
wrong, upon my life and soul — oh demmit ! ”

With which remarks, and many more no less intellectual
and to the purpose, Mr. Mantalini kissed the fingers of his

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 297

gloves to Ralph Nickleby, and drawing his lady’s arm through
his, led her mincingly away.

“ So, so,” muttered Ralph, dropping into his chair, “ this
devil is loose again and thwarting me, as he was born to do,
at every turn. He told me once there should be a day of
reckoning between us, sooner or later. I’ll make him a true
prophet, for it shall surely come.”

“Are you at home?” asked Newman, suddenly popping
in his head.

“ No.”

Newman withdrew his head, but thrust it in again.

“ You’re quite sure you’re not at home, are you? ”

“ What does the idiot mean ? ”

“ He has been waiting nearly ever since they first came
in, and may have heard yoUr voice, that’s all,” said Newman,
rubbing his hands.

“ Who has?”

The necessity of a reply was superseded by the unlooked-
for entrance of a third party — the individual in question
— who made a great many shambling bows and sat himself
down in an arm chair, with his hands on his knees, and his
short black trousers drawn up so high in the legs by the
exertion of seating himself that they scarcely reached below
the tops of his Wellington Boots.

“ Why, this is a surprise ! ” said Ralph, bending his gaze
upon the visitor and half-smiling as he scrutinized him at¬
tentively. “ I should know your face, Mr. Squeers.”

“Ah! and you’d have know’d it better, sir, if it hadn’t
been for all that I’ve been agoing through. Just lift that
little boy off the tall stool in the back office, and tell him to
come in here, will you, my man ? ” said Squeers, addressing
himself to Newman. “ Oh, he’s lifted hisself off! My son,
sir, little Wackford. What do you think of him, sir, for a
specimen of the Dotheboys Hall feeding? Ain’t he fit to

298

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

bust out of his clothes, and start the seams, and make the
very buttons fly off with his fatness? Here’s flesh! ” cried
Squeers, turning the boy about, and indenting the plumpest
parts of his figure with divers pokes and punches to the
great discomposure of his son and heir. “Here’s firmness;
here’s solidness! Why you can hardly get up enough of him
between your finger and thumb to pinch him anywheres.”

“ He looks well, indeed,” returned Ralph, who, for pur¬
poses of his own, seemed desirous to conciliate the school¬
master. “ But how is Mrs. Squeers, and how are you? ”

“ Mrs. Squeers, sir, is as she always is — a mother to them
lads, and a blessing, and a comfort, and a joy to all them as
knows her. One of our boys, gorging hisself with wittles and
then turning ill — that’s their way — got an abscess on
him last week. To see how she operated upon him with a
penknife! Oh Lor! What a member of society that
woman is! ”

“ Have you quite recovered from that scoundrel’s attack? ”
asked Ralph.

“ I’ve only just done it, if I’ve done it now. I was one
blessed bruise, sir,” said Squeers, touching first the roots of
his hair and then the toes of his boots, “ from here to there.
Vinegar and brown paper, there was a matter of half a ream
of brown paper stuck upon me, from first to last. As I laid
all of a heap in our kitchen, plastered all over, you might
have thought I was a large brown paper parcel, chockfull
of nothing but groans. Did I groan loud, Wackford, or did
I groan soft? ”

“ Loud.”

“ Was the boys sorry to see me in such a dreadful condi¬
tion, Wackford, or was they glad? ”

“ G1 - ”

“Eh?” cried Squeers, turning sharp round.

“Sorry.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

299

* “ Oh ! ” said Squeers, catching him a smart box on the

ear. “ Then take your hands out of your pockets, and don’t
stammer when you’re asked a question. Hold your noise,
sir, in a gentleman’s office, or I’ll run away from my family and
never come back any more ; and then what would become of
all them precious and forlorn lads as would be let loose on
the world without their best friend at their elbers ? ”

“ Were you obliged to have medical attendance? ” inquired
Ralph.

“ Ay, was I, and .a precious bill the medical attendant
brought in too; but I paid it, though.”

Ralph elevated his eyebrows in a manner which might
be well expressive of either sympathy or astonishment, just
as the beholder was pleased to take it.

" Yes, I paid it, every farthing. I wasn’t out of pocket by
it after all, either.”

“ No?”

“ Not a halfpenny. The fact is, we have only one extra
with our boys, and that is for doctors when required — and
not then, unless we’re sure of our customers. Do you see? ”

“ I understand.”

“ Very good. Then after my bill was run up, we picked
out five little boys (sons of small tradesmen, as was sure pay)
that had never had the scarlet fever, and we sent one to a
cottage where they’d got it, and he took it, and then we put
the four others to sleep with him, and they took it, and then
the doctor came and attended ’em once all round, and we
divided my total among ’em, and added it on to their little
bills, and the parents paid it. Ha! ha! ha! ”

“ And a good plan, too,” said Ralph, eyeing the schoomaster
stealthily.

“ I believe you. We always do it.”

Ralph inquired what had brought him to town.

“ Some bothering law business,” replied Squeers, scratch-

300

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

ing his head, “ connected with an action for what they call
1 neglect of a boy/ I don’t know what they would have.
He had as good grazing, that boy had, as there is about us.”

Ralph looked as if he did not quite understand the observa¬
tion.

“ Grazing. When a boy gets weak and ill and don’t relish
his meals, we give him a change of diet — turn him out, for
an hour or so every day, into a neighbour’s turnip field, or
carrots, alternately, and let him eat as many as he likes.
There an’t better land in the county than this perwerse lad
grazed on, and yet he goes and catches cold and indigestion
and what not, and then his friends brings a lawsuit against
me! Now you’d' hardly suppose people’s ingratitude would
carry them quite as far as that, would you ? ”

“ A hard case, indeed.”

“ You don’t say more than the truth when you say that.
I don’t suppose there’s a man going as possesses the fondness
for youth that I do.”

After a long pause, during which Ralph appeared absorbed
in contemplation, he finally broke silence by asking :

“ Who is this boy that my nephew took with him? ”

Squeers stated his name.

“ Was he young or old, healthy or sickly, tractable or re¬
bellious? Speak out, man,” retorted Ralph.

“ Why, he wasn’t young, that is, not young for a boy,
you know.”

“ That is, he was not a boy at all, I suppose? ” interrupted
Ralph.

“ Well, he might have been nigh twenty. He wouldn’t seem
so old, though, to them as didn’t know him, for he was a little
wanting here,” touching his forehead; “ nobody at home, you
know, if you knocked ever so often.”

“ And you did knock pretty often, I dare say? ” muttered
Ralph.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

301

“ Pretty well,” returned Squeers with a grin.

“ When you wrote, you told me his friends had deserted
him long ago and that you had not the faintest clue or trace
to tell you who he was. Is that the truth? ”

“ It is, worse luck ! It’s fourteen years ago, by the entry
in my book, since a strange man brought him to my place one
autumn night and left him there, paying five pound five, for
his first quarter in advance. He might have been five or six
year old at that time, not more.”

“ What more do you know about him ? ”

“ Devilish little, I’m sorry to say. The money was paid
for some six or eight year, and then ft stopped. He had
given an address in London, had this chap ; but when it came
to the point, of course, nobody knowed anything about him.
So I kept the lad out of — out of - ”

“ Charity? ”

“ Charity, to be sure, and when he begins to be useful in
a certain sort of way, this young scoundrel of a Nickleby
comes and carries him off. But the most vexatious and ag¬
gravating part of the whole affair is,” dropping his voice, and
drawing his chair still closer to Ralph, “ that some questions
have been asked about him at last; not of me, but in a round¬
about way, of people in our village. So that just when I
might have had all arrears paid up and perhaps a present
besides for putting him out to a farmer, or sending him to
sea, so that he might never turn up to disgrace his parents
— damme, if that villain of a Nickleby don’t collar him in
open day and commit as good as highway robbery upon my
pocket.”

“ We will both cry ‘ quits f with him before long,” said
Ralph, laying his hand on the arm of the Yorkshire school¬
master.

“ Quits ! Ah ! and I should like to leave a small balance
in his favour to be settled when he can. I only wish Mrs.

302

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Squeers could catch hold of him. Bless her heart! She’d
murder him, Mr. Nickleby. She would, as soon as eat her
dinner.”

“ We will talk of this again. I must have time to think
of it. To wound him through his own affections and
fancies - . If I could strike him through this boy - ”

“ Strike him how you like, sir, only hit him hard enough,
that’s all. And with that, I’ll say good morning. Here! —
just chuck that little boy’s hat off that corner peg, and lift
him off the stool, will you ? ”

Bawling these requests to Newman Noggs, Mr. Squeers
betook himself to the little back office, and fitted on his
child’s hat with parental anxiety, while Newman, with
his pen behind his ear, sat stiff and immovable on his
stool regarding the father and son by turns with a broad
stare.

“ He’s a fine boy, an’t he ? ” said Squeers, throwing his
head a little on one side and falling back to the desk, the
better to estimate the proportions of little Wackford.

“ Very,” said Newman.

“Pretty well swelled out, an’t he?” pursued Squeers.
“ He has the fatness of twenty boys, he has.”

“Ah! ” replied Newman, suddenly thrusting his face into
that of Squeers, “ he has — the fatness of twenty ! — more !
He’s got it all. God help the others. Ha, ha! Oh, Lord! ”

Having uttered these fragmentary observations, Newman
dropped upon his desk and began to write with most mar¬
vellous rapidity.

“ Why, what does the man mean? ” cried Squeers, colour¬
ing. “Is he drunk?”

Newman made no reply.

“ Is he mad? ” said Squeers.

But still Newman betrayed no consciousness of any pres¬
ence save his own; so Mr. Squeers comforted himself by

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 303

saying that he was both drunk and mad; and with this part¬
ing observation, he led his hopeful son away.

CHAPTER XXII

HAVING established his mother and sister in the apart¬
ment of the kind-hearted miniature painter, and
ascertained that Sir Mulberry Hawk was in no danger of
losing his life, Nicholas turned his thought to poor Smike,
who, after breakfasting with Newman Noggs, had remained
in a disconsolate state at that worthy creature’s lodgings,
waiting with much anxiety for further intelligence of his
protector.

“As he will be one of our own little household wherever
we live or whatever fortune is in reserve for us,” thought
Nicholas, “ I must present the poor fellow in due form. They
will be kind to him for his own sake, and if not to the full
extent I could wish, they will stretch a point, I am sure, for
mine.” Nicholas said “ they,” but his misgivings were con¬
fined to one person. He was sure of Kate, but he knew
his mother’s peculiarities and was not quite so certain that
Smike would find favour in the eyes of Mrs. Nickleby.

“ However,” thought Nicholas, as he departed on his
benevolent journey, “ she cannot fail to become attached to
him when she knows what a devoted creature he is.”

Smike, overjoyed to see his friend again, said, “ I was
afraid that you had fallen into some fresh trouble. The
time seemed so long, at last, that I almost feared you were
lost.”

“ Lost ! You will not be rid of me so easily, I promise you.
I shall rise to the surface many thousand times yet, and the
harder the thrust that pushes me down, the more quickly I

304

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

shall rebound. Smike. But, come. My errand here is to
take you home.”

So saying, Nicholas took his companion by the arm and,
pointing out various things to amuse and interest him as they
went along, led the way to Miss La Creevy’s house.

“ And this, Kate,” said Nicholas, entering the room where
his sister sat alone, “ is the faithful friend and affectionate
fellow traveller whom I prepared you to receive.”

Poor Smike was bashful, and awkward, and frightened
enough, at first, but Kate advanced towards him so kindly
and said, in such a sweet voice, how anxious she had been to
see him after all her brother had told her, and how much she
had to thank him for having comforted Nicholas so greatly
in their very trying reverses, that he began to be doubtful
whether he should shed tears or not, and became still more
flurried. However, he managed to say, in a broken voice,
that Nicholas was his only friend and that he would lay
down his life to help him. Kate, although she was kind and
considerate, seemed to be so wholly unconscious of his dis¬
tress and embarrassment, that he recovered almost immedi¬
ately and felt quite at home.

Then, Miss La Creevy came in; and to her Smike had to
be presented also. Miss La Creevy was very kind, too.

At length the door opened again, and a lady in mourning
came in. Nicholas, kissing the lady in mourning affection¬
ately and calling her his mother, led her towards the chair
from which Smike had risen when she entered the room.

“ You are always kind-hearted and anxious to help the
oppressed, my dear mother, so you will be favourably dis¬
posed towards him, I know.”

“ I am sure, my dear Nicholas,” replied Mrs. Nickleby,
looking very hard at her new friend and bending to him
with something more of majesty than the occasion seemed
to require, “ I am sure any friend of yours has, as indeed he
naturally ought to have, and must have, of course, a great

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

305

claim on me. It is a very great pleasure to me to be in¬
troduced to anybody you take an interest in. There can
be no doubt about that; none at all; not the least in the
world. At the same time I must say, Nicholas, my dear,
as I used to say to your poor dear papa, when he would
bring gentlemen home to dinner and there was nothing in the
house, that if he had come the day before yesterday — no,
I don’t mean the day before yesterday — I should have said,
perhaps, the year before last — we should have been better
able to entertain him.”

With which remarks, Mrs. Nickleby turned to her daughter
and inquired, in an audible whisper, whether the gentleman
was going to stay all night ?

“ Because if he is, Kate, my dear, I don’t see that it’s
possible for him to sleep anywhere, and that’s the truth.”

Kate stepped gracefully forward, and without any show of
annoyance or irritation breathed a few words into her mother’s
ear.

“ La, Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, shrinking back,
“ how you do tickle one ! Of course, I understand that, my
love, without your telling me ; and I said the same to Nicho¬
las, and I am very much pleased. You didn’t tell me, Nicho¬
las, my dear,” added Mrs. Nickleby, turning round, with an
air of less reserve than she had before assumed, “ what your
friend’s name is.”

“ His name, mother, is Smike.”

The effect of this communication was by no means an¬
ticipated; but the name was no sooner pronounced than
Mrs. Nickleby dropped upon a chair, and burst into a fit
of crying.

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Nicholas, running to
support her.

“ It’s so like Pyke, so exactly like Pyke. Oh! don’t speak
to me — I shall be better presently.”

After exhibiting every symptom of slow suffocation, in

306

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

all its stages, and drinking about a teaspoonful of water from
a full tumbler and spilling the remainder, Mrs. Nickleby was
better, and remarked, with a feeble smile, that she was very
foolish, she knew.

“ It’s a weakness in our family, so, of course, I can’t be
blamed for it. Your grandmama, Kate, was exactly the
same — precisely. The least excitement, the slightest sur¬
prise — she fainted away directly.”

“ Mr. Smike is from Yorkshire, Nicholas, my dear? ” said
Mrs. Nickleby, after dinner, and when she had been silent for
some time.

“ Certainly, mother. I see you have not forgotten his
melancholy history.”

“ 0, dear, no. Ah! Melancholy indeed! 1y>u don’t hap¬
pen, Mr. Smike, ever to have dined with the Grimbles of
Grimble Hall somewhere in the North Riding, do you? A
very proud" man, Sir Thomas Grimble, with six grown-up
and most lovely daughters, and the finest park in the
county.”

“ My dear mother ! Do you suppose that the unfortunate
outcast of a Yorkshire school was likely to receive many
cards of invitation from the nobility and gentry in the
neighbourhood ? ”

“ Really, my dear, I don’t know why it should be so very
extraordinary. I know that when I was at school I always
went at least twice every half-year to the Hawkinses at
Taunton Vale, and they are much richer than the Grimbles,
and connected with them in marriage; so, you see, it’s not
so very unlikely after all.”

Having put down Nicholas in this triumphant manner,
Mrs. Nickleby was suddenly seized with a forgetfulness of
Smike’s real name, and an irresistible tendency to call him
Mr. Slammons, which circumstance she attributed to the
remarkable similarity of the two names in point of sound,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 307

both beginning with an S and, moreover, being spelt with
an M. But whatever doubt there might be on this point,
there was none as to his being a most excellent listener, which
circumstance had considerable influence in placing them on
the very best terms and in inducing Mrs. Nickleby to express
the highest opinion of his general deportment and disposi¬
tion.

Thus the little circle remained on the most amicable and
agreeable footing until the Monday morning, when Nicholas
withdrew himself from it for a short time, seriously to reflect
upon the state of his affairs and to determine, if he could,
upon some course of life which would enable him to support
those who were so entirely dependent upon his exertions.

“ i’ll try the employment office again,” he said to himself.

As Nicholas stopped to look in at the window, an old
gentleman happened to stop, too. Nicholas, carrying his
eye along the window panes from left to right in search
of some placard which should be applicable to his own case,
caught sight of this old gentleman’s figure, and instinctively
withdrew his eyes from the window, to observe the same
more closely.

He was a sturdy old fellow in a broad-skirted blue coat,
but what principally attracted the attention of Nicholas
was the old gentleman’s eye — never was such a clear, twink¬
ling, honest, merry, happy eye, as that, glancing from
placard to placard; and Nicholas could not forbear raising
his eyes to his face again. Grafted upon the quaintness and
oddity of his appearance was something so indescribably
engaging, and bespeaking so much worth, and there were
so many little lights hovering about the corners of his mouth
and eyes that it was not a mere amusement but a positive
pleasure and delight to look at him.

This being the case, it is no wonder that the old man caught
Nicholas in the act more than once. At such times, Nicholas

308

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

coloured and looked embarrassed: for the truth is, that he
had begun to wonder whether the stranger could, by any pos¬
sibility, be looking for a clerk or secretary. As the stranger
was moving away, Nicholas caught his eye again, and, in
the awkwardness of the moment, stammered out an apology.

“ No offence. Oh, no offence! ” said the old man.

This was said in such a hearty tone, and the voice was so
exactly what it should have been from such a speaker, and
there was such a cordiality in the manner, that Nicholas
was emboldened to speak again.

“ A great many opportunities here, sir! ” he said, half-
smiling as he motioned towards the window.

“ A great many people willing and anxious to be employed
have seriously thought so very often, I dare say,” replied
the old man. “ Poor fellows, poor fellows! ”

He moved away, as he said this; but seeing that Nicholas
was about to speak, good-naturedly slackened his pace, as
if he were unwilling to cut him short.

“ You were about to speak, young gentleman. What were
you going to say? ”

“ Merely that I almost hoped — I mean to say, thought —
you had some object in consulting those advertisements.”

“ Ay, ay? What object now — what object?” returned
the old man, looking slyly at Nicholas. “ Did you think I
wanted a situation now ? Eh ? Did you think I did ? ”

Nicholas shook his head.

“ Ha, ha ! ” laughed the old gentleman, rubbing his hands
and wrists as if he were washing them. “ A very natural
thought, at all events, after seeing me gazing at those
bills. I thought the same of you, at first; upon my word,
I did.”

“ If you had thought so at last, too, sir, you would not
have been far from the truth.”

“Eh?” cried the old man, surveying him from head to

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

309

foot. “What! Dear me! No, no. Well-behaved young
gentleman reduced to such a necessity! No, no, no, no/’

Nicholas bowed, and bidding him good morning, turned
upon his heel.

“ Stay,” said the old man, beckoning him into a bye-street,
where they could converse with less interruption. “ What
d’ye mean, eh ? ”

“ Merely that your kind face and manner — both unlike
any I have ever seen — tempted me into an avowal, which,
to any other stranger in this wilderness of London, I should
not have dreamed of making.”

“ Wilderness! Yes, it is, it is. Good! It is a wilderness.
It was a wilderness to me once. I came here barefoot. I
have never forgotten it. Thank God! ” and he took his hat
from his head and looked very grave.

“ What’s the matter ? What is it ? How did it all come
about?” laying his hand on the shoulder of Nicholas, and
walking him up the street. “ You’re — eh ? ” laying his finger
on the sleeve of his black coat. “ Who’s it for, eh? ”

“ My father.”

“Ah! Bad thing for a young man to lose his father.
Widowed mother, perhaps ? ”

Nicholas sighed.

“ Brothers and sisters too ? Eh ? ”

“ One sister.”

“Poor thing, poor thing! You’re a scholar too, I dare
say?”

“ I have been tolerably well educated.”

“ Fine thing, education, a great thing — a very great thing !
I never had any. I admire it the more in others. A very
great thing! Yes, yes.- Tell me more of your history. Let
me hear it all. No impertinent curiosity, — no, no-no.”

There was something so earnest and guileless in the way in
which this was said that Nicholas could not resist it. Among

310

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

men who have any sound and sterling qualities, there is
nothing so contagious as pure openness of heart. Nicholas
took the infection instantly and ran over the main points of
his little history without reserve, merely suppressing names
and touching as lightly as possible upon his uncle’s treat¬
ment of Kate. The old man listened with great attention;
and when he had concluded, drew his arm eagerly through his
own.

“ Don’t say another word. Not another word! Come
along with me. We mustn’t lose a minute.”

So saying, the old gentleman dragged him back into Oxford
Street and, hailing an omnibus on its way to the City, pushed
Nicholas in before him, and followed himself.

As he appeared in a most extraordinary condition of rest¬
less excitement, and whenever Nicholas offered to speak,
immediately interposed with : “ Don’t say another word, my
dear sir, on any account — not another word! ” the young
man thought it better to attempt no further interruption.
Into the City they journeyed accordingly, without interchang¬
ing any conversation; and the farther they went, the more
Nicholas wondered what the end of the adventure could
possibly be.

The old gentleman got out with great alacrity, when they
reached the Bank1 and, once more taking Nicholas by the
arm, hurried him along Threadneedle Street and through some
lanes and passages on the right until they at length emerged
in a quiet shady little square. Into the oldest and cleanest-
looking house of business in the square he led the way.
The only inscription on the door post was “ Cheeryble
Brothers ”; but from a hasty glance at the directions of some
packages which were lying about, Nicholas supposed that
the Brothers Cheeryble were German merchants.

Passing through a warehouse which presented every indi¬
cation of a thriving business, Mr. Cheeryble (for such Nicho-
1 The Bank of England.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

311

las supposed him to be, from the respect which had been
shown him by the warehousemen and porters whom they
passed) led him into a little partitioned-off counting-house
like a large glass case, in which there sat — as free from dust
and blemish as if he had been fixed into the glass case before
the top was put. on and had never come out since — a fat,
elderly, large-faced clerli, with silver spectacles and a
powdered head.

“ Is my brother in his room, Tim? ” said Mr. Cheeryble,
with no less kindness of manner than he had shown to
Nicholas.

“ Yes he is, sir,” replied the fat clerk, turning his spectacle-
glasses towards his principal, and his eyes towards Nicholas,
“ but Mr. Trimmers is with him.”

“ Ay ! And what has he come about, Tim ? ”

“ He is getting up a subscription for the widow and family
of a man who was killed in the East India Docks this morning,
sir. Smashed, sir, by a cask of sugar.”

“ He is a good creature,” said Mr. Cheeryble, with great
earnestness. “ He is a kind soul. I am very much obliged
to Trimmers. Trimmers is one of the best friends we have.
He makes a thousand cases known to us that we should never
discover of ourselves. I am very much obliged to Trimmers.”
Saying which, Mr. Cheeryble rubbed his hands with infinite
delight, and Mr. Trimmers happening to pass the door that
instant, on his way out, shot out after him and caught him
by the hand.

“ I owe you a thousand thanks, Trimmers, ten thousand
thanks. I take it very friendly of you, very friendly indeed,”
dragging him into a corner to get out of hearing. “ How
many children are there, and what has my brother Ned given,
Trimmers? ”

“ There are six children,” replied the gentleman, “ and
your brother has given us twenty pounds.”

“ My brother Ned is a good fellow, and you’re a good

312

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

fellow, too, Trimmers,” shaking him by both hands with
trembling eagerness. “ Put me down for another twenty —
or — stop a minute, stop a minute! We mustn’t look osten¬
tatious; put me down ten pound, and Tim Linkinwater ten
pound. A cheque for twenty pound for Mrs. Trimmers, Tim.
God bless you, Trimmers — and come and dine with us some
day this week; you’ll always find a knife and fork, and we
shall be delighted. Now, my dear sir — cheque from Mr.
Linkinwater, Tim. Smashed by a cask of sugar, and six poor
children — oh dear, dear, dear! ”

Talking on in ‘this strain, as fast as he could to prevent
any friendly remonstrances from the collector, Mr. Cheeryble
led Nicholas, equally astonished and affected by what he had
seen and heard in this short space, to the half-opened door
of another room.

“ Brother Ned,” said Mr. Cheeryble, tapping with his
knuckle and stopping to listen, “ are you busy, my
dear brother, or can you spare time for a word or two
with me ? ”

“ Brother Charles, my dear fellow,” replied a voice from
the inside, so like in its tones to that which had just spoken,
that Nicholas started, and almost thought it was the same,
“ don’t ask me such a question, but come in directly.”

They went in without further parley. What was the
amazement of Nicholas when his conductor advanced and
exchanged a warm greeting with another old gentleman, the
very type and model of himself. Nobody could have doubted
their being twin brothers.

“ Brother Ned,” said Nicholas’s friend, closing the room
door, “ here is a young friend of mine whom we must assist.
We must make proper inquiries into his statements, in justice
to him as well as to ourselves; and if they are confirmed —
as I feel assured they will be — we must assist him, we must
assist him, brother Ned.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

313

“ It is enough, my dear brother, that you say we should.
When you say that, no further inquiries are needed. He shall
be assisted. What are his necessities, and what does he
require? Where is Tim Linkinwater ? ” said Brother Ned.

“ Stop, stop, stop ! ” said Brother Charles, taking the other
aside. ' “ I Ve a plan, my dear brother, I’ve a plan. Tim is
getting old, and Tim has been a faithful servant. I don’t
think pensioning Tim’s mother and sister and buying a little
tomb for the family when his poor brother died was a sufficient
recompense for his faithful services.”

“ No, no, no, certainly not. Not half enough, not half.”

“ If we could lighten Tim’s duties and prevail upon him
to go into the country now and then and sleep in the fresh
air two or three times a week (which he could, if he began
business an hour later in the morning), old Tim Linkin¬
water would grow young again in time; and he’s three good
years our senior now. Old Tim Linkinwater young again!
Eh, brother Ned, eh? why, I recollect old Tim Linkinwater
quite a little boy, don’t you? Ha, ha, ha! Poor Tim, poor
Tim!

“ But hear this first — hear this first, Brother Ned,” said
the old man, hastily, placing two chairs, one on each side of
Nicholas. “ I’ll tell it you myself because the young gentle¬
man is modest, and is a scholar, and you and I shouldn’t feel
it right that he should tell us his story over and over again
as if he was a beggar, or as if we doubted him. No, no, no.”

“ No, no, no,” nodding his head gravely. “ Very right, my
dear brother, very right.”

“ He will tell me I’m wrong, if I make a mistake, but
whether I do or not, you’ll be very much affected, Brother
Ned, remembering the time when we were two friendless
lads and earned our first shilling in this great city.”

The twins pressed each other’s hands in silence, and in
his own homely manner Brother Charles related the particu-

314 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

lars he had heard from Nicholas. The conversation which
ensued was a long one; and when it was over, a secret con¬
ference of almost equal duration took place between Brother
Ned and Tim Linkinwater in another room. It is no dis¬
paragement to Nicholas to say that, before he had been
closeted with the two brothers ten minutes, he could only
wave his hand at every fresh expression of kindness and
sympathy, and sob like a little child.

At length Brother Ned and Tim Linkinwater came back
together, when Tim instantly walked up to Nicholas and
whispered in his ear in a very brief sentence (for Tim was
ordinarily a man of few words) that he had taken down the
address in the Strand and would call- upon him that evening,
at eight. Having done which, Tim wiped his spectacles and
put them on, preparatory to hearing what more the brother
Cheeryble had to say.

“ Tim,” said Brother Charles, “ you understand that we
have an intention of taking this young gentleman into the
countinghouse ? ”

Brother Ned remarked that Tim was aware of that in¬
tention and quite approved of it. Tim having nodded, and
said he did, drew himself up and looked particularly fat, and
very important. After which there was a profound silence.

“ I’m not coming an hour later in the morning, you know,”
said Tim, breaking out all at once and looking very resolute.
“ I’m not going to sleep in the fresh air; no, and I’m not
going into the country, either. A pretty thing at this time
of day, certainly. Pho! ”

“ Darn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater,” said Brother
Charles, looking at him without the faintest spark of anger,
and with a countenance radiant with attachment to the old
clerk. “ Darn your obstinacy, Tim Linkinwater; what do
you mean, sir ? ”

Tim said: “ It’s forty-four year next May since I first kept

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

315

the books of Cheeryble Brothers. IVe opened the safe every
morning all that time (Sundays excepted) as the clock struck
nine, and gone over the house every night at half-past ten
(except on Foreign Post nights, and then twenty minutes
before twelve) to see the doors fastened and the fires out.
I’ve never slept out of the back attic one single night. There’s
the same mignonette box in the middle of the window, and
the same four flower pots, two on each side, that I brought
with me when I first came. There ain’t — I’ve said it again
and again, and I’ll maintain it — there ain’t such a square
as this in the world. I know there ain’t. Not one. For
business or pleasure, in summer time or wunter — I don’t
care which — there’s nothing like it. There’s not such a
spring of water in England as the pump under the archway.
There’s not such a view in England as the view out of my
window. I’ve seen it every morning before I shaved, and
I ought to know something about it. I have slept in that
room for four-and-forty year; and if it wasn’t inconvenient
and didn’t interfere with business, I should request leave to
die there.”

‘ Confound you, Tim Linkinwater, how dare you talk about
dying ? ” roared the twins by one impulse and blowing their
old noses violently.

“ That’s what I’ve got to say, Mr. Edwin and Mr. Charles,”
said Tim, squaring his shoulders again. “ This isn’t the first
time you’ve talked about superannuating me; but, if you
please, we’ll make it the last, and drop the subject for ever¬
more.”

With those words, Tim Linkinwater stalked out, and shut
himself up in his glass case, with the air of a man who had
had his say, and was thoroughly resolved not to be put down.

The brothers exchanged looks and coughed some half-dozen
times without speaking.

“ He must be done something with, Brother Ned. We

316 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

must disregard his old scruples; they can’t be tolerated or
borne. He must be made a partner, Brother Ned; and if
he won’t do it peaceably, we must have recourse to violence.”

“ Quite right, quite right, my dear brother. If he won’t
listen to reason, we must do it against his will and show
him that we are determined to exert our authority. We
must quarrel with him, Brother Charles.”

“ We must. We certainly must have a quarrel with Tim
Linkinwater. But in the meantime, my dear brother, we are
keeping our young friend, and the poor lady and her daughter
will be anxious for his return. So let us say good-by for the
present _ there, there — take care of that box, my dear sir
— and — no, no, no, not a word now — be careful of the
crossings and - ”

And with many disjointed and unconnected words which
would prevent Nicholas from pouring out his thanks, the
brothers hurried him out, shaking hands with him all the
way and affecting very unsuccessfully — they were poor hands
at deception! — to be wholly unconscious of the feelings that
mastered him.

To recount all the delight and wonder which the cir¬
cumstances just detailed awakened at Miss La Creevy’s, and
all the things that were done, said, thought, expected, hoped,
and prophesied in consequence is beside the present course and
purpose of these adventures. It is sufficient to state, in
brief, that Mr. Timothy Linkinwater arrived, punctual to
his appointment; that he reported strongly and warmly in
favour of Nicholas; and that next day Nicholas was ap¬
pointed to the vacant stool in the countinghouse of Cheeryble
Brothers, with a present salary of one hundred and twenty
pounds a year.

“ And I think, my dear brother,” said Nicholas’s first friend,
“ that if we were to let them that little cottage at Bow which
is empty, at something under the usual rent, now? Eh,
Brother Ned? ”

The brothers hurried him out, shaking hands with him

all the way.

318

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ For nothing at all. We are rich and should be ashamed
to touch the rent under such circumstances as these. Where
is Tim Linkinwater ? — for nothing at all, my dear brother,
for nothing at all.”

“ Perhaps it would be better to say something, Brother
Ned. It would help to preserve habits of frugality, you
know, and remove any painful sense of overwhelming obliga¬
tions. We might say fifteen pound, or twenty pound; and
if it was punctually paid, make it up to them in some other
way. And I might secretly advance a small loan towards a
little furniture, and you might secretly advance another small
loan, Brother Ned; and if we find them doing well — as we
shall; there’s no fear, no fear — we can change the loan into
gifts. Carefully, Brother Ned, and by degrees, and without
pressing upon them too much — what do you say now,
brother? ”

Brother Ned gave his hand upon it, and not only said it
should be done, but had it done, too; and in one short week,
Nicholas took possession of the house, and all was hope,
bustle, and light-heartedness.

There surely never was such a week of discoveries and
surprises as the first week at that cottage. Every night
when Nicholas came home, something new had been found
out. One day it was a grape vine, and another day it was a
boiler, and another day it was the key of the front parlour
closet at the bottom of the water-butt, and so on through
a hundred items. Then this room was embellished with a
muslin curtain, and that room was rendered quite elegant
by a window blind, and such improvements were made as no
one could have supposed possible. Then there was Miss
La Creevy, who had come out in the omnibus to stop a day
or two and help, and who was perpetually losing a very small
brown paper parcel of tin tacks and a very large hammer, and
running about with her sleeves tucked up at the wrists, and
falling off pairs of steps and hurting herself very much —

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

319

and Mrs. Nickleby, who talked incessantly, and Kate, who
busied herself noiselessly everywhere, and was pleased with
everything — and Smike, who made the garden a perfect
wonder to look upon — and Nicholas, who helped and en¬
couraged them every one — all the peace and cheerfulness
of home restored, with such new zest imparted to every frugal
pleasure and such delight to every hour of meeting that
misfortune and separation alone could give.

In short, the poor Nicklebys were social and happy, while
the rich Nickleby was alone and miserable.

CHAPTER XXIII

WITH a shattered leg, a body severely bruised, a face
disfigured by half -healed scars, and pallid from the
exhaustion of recent pain and fever, Sir Mulberry Hawk lay
stretched upon his back on the couch to which he was doomed
to be a prisoner for some weeks yet to come. Mr. Pyke and
Mr. Pluck sat drinking hard in the next room, now and then
varying the monotonous murmurs of their conversation with
a half -smothered laugh, while the young lord — the only
member of the party who was not thoroughly irredeemable —
and who really had a kind heart — sat beside his mentor with
a cigar in his mouth, and read to him by the light of a lamp
such scraps of intelligence from a paper of the day as were
most likely to yield him interest or amusement.

“ Curse those hounds ! ” said the invalid, turning his
head impatiently towards the adjoining room, “ will nothing
stop their infernal throats ? ”

Messrs. Pyke and Pluck heard the exclamation and stopped
immediately, winking to each other as they did so and filling
their glasses to the brim as some recompense for the depriva¬
tion of speech.

320

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Damn ! ” muttered the sick man between his teeth and
writhing impatiently in his bed. “ Isn’t this mattress hard
enough, and the room dull enough, and the pain bad enough,
but they must torture me ! What’s the time ? ”

“ Half-past eight,” replied his friend.

“ Here, draw the table nearer, and let us have the cards
again. More piquet. Come.”

While he was thus occupied, his man appeared to announce
that Mr. Ralph Nickleby was below and wished to know
how he was tonight.

“ Better.”

“ Mr. Nickleby wishes to know, sir - ”

“ I tell you, better,” striking his hand upon the table.

The man hesitated for a moment or two, and then said
that Mr. Nickleby had requested permission to see Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk, if it was not inconvenient.

“ It is inconvenient. I can’t see him. I can’t see any¬
body,” said his master, more violently than before. “ You
know that, you blockhead.”

“ I am very sorry, sir. But Mr. Nickleby pressed so much,
sir.”

The fact was that Ralph Nickleby had bribed the man,
who being anxious to earn his money with a view to future
favours, held the door in his hand and ventured to linger still.

“ Did he say whether he had any business to speak about ? ”
inquired Sir Mulberry, after a little impatient consider¬
ation.

“ No, sir. He said he wished to see you, sir. Particularly,
Mr. Nickleby said, sir.”

“ Tell him to come up. Here ! ” cried Sir Mulberry, calling
the man back as he passed his hand over his disfigured face,
“ move that lamp, and put it on the stand behind me. Wheel
that table away, and place a chair there — further off. Leave
it so.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

321

The man obeyed these directions as if he quite com¬
prehended the motive with which they were dictated, and
left the room. Lord Frederick Verisopht, remarking that
he would look in presently, strolled into the adjoining apart¬
ment and closed the folding door behind him.

Then was heard a subdued footstep on the stairs ; and
Ralph Nickleby, hat in hand, crept softly into the room, with
his body bent forward as if in profound respect, and his eyes
fixed upon the face of his worthy client.

“ Well, Nickleby,” said Sir Mulberry, motioning him to
the chair by the couch side and waving his hand in assumed
carelessness. “ I have had a bad accident, you see.

“ I see,” rejoined Ralph, with the same steady gaze. “ Bad,
indeed ! I should not have known you, Sir Mulberry. Dear,
dear! This is bad.”

“ Sit down,” said Sir Mulberry, turning towards him, as
though by a violent effort. “ Am I a sight that you stand
gazing there ? ”

As he turned his face, Ralph recoiled a step or two, and
making as though he were irresistibly impelled to express
astonishment, but was determined not to do so, sat down with
well-acted confusion.

“ I have inquired at the door, Sir Mulberry, every day,
twice a day, indeed, at first— -and tonight — I could not
resist soliciting admission to your room. Have you — have
you suffered much? ”

“ More than enough to please me, and less than enough to
please some broken-down hacks that you and I know of and
who lay their ruin between us, I dare say. What is it that
brought you here tonight? ”

“ Nothing. There are some bills of my lord’s which need
renewal; but let them be till you are well. I — I — came,”
said Ralph, speaking more slowly and with harsher emphasis,
“ X came to say how grieved I am that any relative of mine,

322

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

although disowned by me, should have inflicted such punish¬
ment on you as - ”

“ Punishment ! ”

“ I know it has been a severe one and that has made me
the more anxious to tell you that I disown this vagabond —
that I acknowledge him as no kin of mine — and that I leave
him to take his deserts from you and every man besides.
You may wring his neck if you please. I shall not in¬
terfere.”

“ This story that they tell me here has got abroad then,
has it ? ” asked Sir Mulberry, clenching his hands and teeth.

“ Noised in all directions. Every club and gaming room
has rung with it. There has been a good song made about
it, as I am told,” said Ralph, looking eagerly at his ques¬
tioner. “ I have not heard it myself, not being in the way of
such things, but I have been told it’s even printed — for
private circulation — but that’s all over town, of course.”

“ It’s a lie ! I tell you it’s all a lie. The mare took
fright.”

“ They say he frightened her. Some say he frightened
you, but that’s a lie, I know. I have said that boldly — oh,
a score of times! I am a peaceable man, but I can’t hear
folks tell that of you. No, no.” When Sir Mulberry found
coherent words to utter, Ralph bent forward with his hand
to his ear and a face as calm as if its every line of sternness
had been cast in iron.

“ When I am off this cursed bed,” said the invalid, actually
striking at his broken leg in the ecstasy of his passion, “ I’ll

have such revenge as never man had yet. By G - I will!

Accident favouring him, he has marked me for a week or two,
but 1 11 put a mark on him that he shall carry to his grave.
I’ll slit his nose and ears, flog him, maim him for life. I’ll
do more than that; I’ll drag that pattern of chastity, that
pink of prudery, his delicate sister, through - ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

323

He stopped and, menacing with his hand, confirmed the
unuttered threat with a tremendous oath.

“ It is a galling thing,” said Ralph, after a short term of
silence, during which he had eyed the sufferer keenly, “ to
think that the man about town, the rake, the roue, the rook
of twenty seasons, should be brought to this pass by a mere
boy! ”

Sir Mulberry darted a wrathful look at him, but Ralph’s
eyes were bent upon the ground, and his face wore no other
expression than one of thoughtfulness.

“ A raw, slight stripling against a man whose very weight
might crush him; to say nothing of his skill in — I am right,
I think,” raising his eyes; “you were a patron of the ring
once, were you not ? ”

The sick man made an impatient gesture, which Ralph
chose to consider as one of acquiescence.

“ Ha! I thought so. That was before I knew you, but I
was pretty sure I couldn’t be mistaken. He is light and
active, I suppose. But those were slight advantages com¬
pared with yours. Luck, luck! These hangdog outcasts
have it.”

“ He’ll need the most he has, when I am well again, let
him fly where he will.”

“ Oh! he doesn’t dream of that. He is here, good sir, wait¬
ing your pleasure, here in London, walking the streets at noon¬
day, carrying it off jauntily, looking for you, I swear. If we
were only citizens of a country where it could be safely done,
I’d give good money to have him stabbed to the heart and
rolled into the kennel for the dogs to tear.”

As Ralph, somewhat to the surprise of his old client, vented
this little piece of sound family feeling and took up his hat
preparatory to departing, Lord Frederick Yerisopht looked
in.

“ why what in the dayvle’s name, Hawk, have you and

324

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Nickleby been talking about? I neyver heard such an in¬
sufferable riot. Croak, croak, croak. Bow, wow, wow.
What has it all been about ? ”

“ Sir Mulberry has been angry, my lord,” said Ralph, look¬
ing towards the couch.

“Not about money, I hope? Nothing has gone wrong
in business, has it, Nickleby ? ”

“ No, my lord, no. On that point we always agree. Sir
Mulberry has been calling to mind the cause of - ”

There was neither necessity nor opportunity for Ralph
to proceed; for Sir Mulberry took up the theme and vented
his threats and oaths against Nicholas, almost as ferociously
as before.

Ralph was surprised to see that as this tirade proceeded,
the manner of Lord Frederick Verisopht, who at the com¬
mencement had been twirling his whiskers with a most dandi¬
fied and listless air, underwent a complete alteration. He
was still more surprised when, Sir Mulberry ceasing to speak,
the young lord angrily and almost unaffectedly requested
never to have the subject renewed in his presence.

“ Mind that, Hawk. I never will be a party to, or permit,
if I can help it, a cowardly attack upon this young
fellow.”

“ Cowardly ! ”

“ Ye-es,” said the other, turning full upon him. “ What
happened to you was more your fault than his; and it shall
not, with my knowledge, be cruelly visited upon him; it shall
not indeed.”

With this emphatic repetition of his concluding words,
the young lord turned upon his heel, but before he had reached
the adjoining room, he turned back again and said with even
greater vehemence than he had displayed before:

“ I do believe, now; upon my honour, I do believe that the
sister is as virtuous and modest a young lady as she is a

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

325

handsome one; and of the brother I say this, that he acted
as her brother should, and in a manly and spirited manner.
And I only wish, with all my heart and soul, that any one of
us came out of this matter half as well as he does.”

So saying, Lord Frederick Verisopht walked out of the
room, leaving Ralph Nickleby and Sir Mulberry in most
unpleasant astonishment.

“ Is this your pupil ? ” asked Ralph, softly, “ or has he come
fresh from some country parson? ”

“ Green fools take these fits sometimes,” biting his lip, and
pointing to the door. “ Leave him to me.”

Ralph exchanged a familiar look with his old acquaintance,
for they had suddenly grown confidential again.

CHAPTER XXIY

TIM LINKINWATER, sir,” said Brother Charles; “ give
me your hand, sir. This is your birthday. How dare
you talk about anything else till you have been wished many
happy returns of the day. God bless you, Tim! God bless
you! ”

“ My dear brother,” said the other, seizing Tim’s dis¬
engaged fist, “ Tim Linkinwater looks ten years younger than
he did on his last birthday.”

“ Brother Ned, my dear boy, I believe that Tim Linkin¬
water was bom a hundred and fifty years old and is gradu¬
ally coming down to five-and-twenty ; for he’s younger every
birthday than he was the year before.”

“ So he is, Brother Charles, so he is. There’s not a doubt
about it.”

“ Remember, Tim,” said Brother Charles, “ that we dine
at half-past five today instead of two o’clock; we always

326

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

depart from our usual custom on this anniversary, as you
very well know. Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, you will make
one. Tim Linkinwater, give me your snuffbox as a remem¬
brance to Brother Charles and myself of an attached and
faithful rascal; and take that, in exchange, as a feeble mark
of our respect and esteem, and don’t open it until you go
to bed.” He gave him a costly gold snuffbox in exchange, in¬
closing a banknote worth more than ten times its value and
hurried away to prevent hearing any thanks.

At a quarter past five o’clock, punctual to the minute,
arrived, according to annual usage, Tim Linkinwater’s sister.
The company consisted of the Brothers Cheeryble, Tim
Linkinwater, a ruddy-faced, white-headed friend of Tim’s
(who was a superannuated bank clerk), and Nicholas, who
was presented to Tim Linkinwater’s sister with much gravity
and solemnity. The party being now - completed, Brother
Ned rang for dinner. This being shortly afterwards an¬
nounced, Brother Ned led Tim Linkinwater’s sister into the
next room where the dinner was set forth with great prepara¬
tion. Then Brother Ned took the head of the table, and
Brother Charles the foot ; and Tim Linkinwater’s sister sat on
the left hand of Brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater himself on
his right ; and an ancient butler of apoplectic appearance and
with very short legs took up his position at the back of
Brother Ned’s arm chair and, waving his right arm prepara¬
tory to taking off the covers with a flourish, stood bolt up¬
right and motionless.

“ For these and all other blessings, Brother Charles,” said
Ned.

“ Lord, make us truly thankful, Brother Ned,” said Charles.

Whereupon the apoplectic butler whisked off the top of
the soup tureen and shot at once into a state of violent
activity.

There was abundance of conversation and little fear of its

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 327

ever flagging, for the good humour of the glorious old twins
drew everybody out.

There was one little ceremony peculiar to the day, both
the matter and manner of which made a very strong impres¬
sion upon Nicholas. The cloth having been removed and
the decanters sent round for the first time, a profound silence
succeeded, and in the cheerful faces of the brothers there
appeared an expression of quiet thoughtfulness very unusual
at a festive table. As Nicholas, struck by this sudden
alteration, was wondering what it could portend, the brothers
rose together, and the one at the top of the table leaning
forward towards the other and speaking in a low voice as if
he were addressing him individually, said:

“ Brother Charles, my dear fellow, there is another associa¬
tion connected with this day which must never be forgotten,
and never can be forgotten by you and me. This day,
which brought into the world a most faithful and excellent
and exemplary fellow took from it the kindest and very best
of parents, the very best of parents to us both. I wish that
she could have seen us in our prosperity and shared it, and
had the happiness of knowing how dearly we loved her in it,
as we did when we were two poor boys; but that was not
to be. My dear brother — The Memory of our Mother.”

* * *

As Nicholas had some distance to walk, it was considerably
past midnight by the time he reached home, where he found
his mother and Smike sitting up to receive him. It was long
after their usual hour of retiring, and they had expected him
at the very latest, two hours ago; but the time had not hung
heavily on their hands, for Mrs. Nickleby had entertained
Smike with a genealogical account of her family by the
mother’s side, comprising biographical sketches of the princi¬
pal members, and Smike had sat wondering what it was all

328

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

about, and whether it was learned from a book, or said out
of Mrs. Nickleby’s own head, so that they got on together
very pleasantly.

Nicholas could not go to bed without expatiating on the
excellences and munificence of the brothers Cheeryble and
relating the great success which had attended his efforts that
day. But before he had said a dozen words, Mrs. Nickleby,
with many sly winks and nods, observed that she was sure
Mr. Smike must be quite tired out and that she positively
must insist on his not sitting up a minute longer.

“ A most biddable creature he is to be sure,” said Mrs.
Nickleby, when Smike had wished them good night and left
the room. “ I know you’ll excuse me, Nicholas, my dear, but
I don’t like to do this before a third person; indeed, before a
young man it would not be„ quite proper. Kate has been
in bed — oh ! a couple of hours — and I’m very glad, Nicholas,
my dear, that I prevailed upon her not to sit up, for I wished
very much to have an opportunity of saying a few words
to you. I am naturally anxious about it, and, of course, it’s
very delightful and consoling to have a grown-up son that
one can put confidence in and advise with; indeed, I don’t
know any use there would be in having sons at all unless
people could put confidence in them.”

Nicholas stopped in the middle of a sleepy yawn, as his
mother began to speak, and looked at her with fixed atten¬
tion.

“ There was a lady in our neighbourhood,” said Mrs.
Nickleby, “ speaking of sons puts me in mind of it, — a lady
in our neighbourhood, when we lived near Dawlish, I think
her name was Rogers; indeed I am sure it was, if it wasn’t
Murphy, which is the only doubt I have - ”

“ Is it about her, mother, that you wish to speak to me ? ”

“ About her ! Good gracious, Nicholas, my dear, how can
you be ’so ridiculous! But that was always the way with

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

329

your poor dear papa — just his way, — always wandering,
never able to fix his thoughts on any one subject for two
minutes together. I think I see him now ! ” wiping her eyes,
“ looking at me while I was talking to him about his affairs,
just as if his ideas were in a state of perfect conglomeration!
Anybody who had come in upon us suddenly would have
supposed I was confusing and distracting him instead of
making things plainer, upon my word they would.”

“ I am very sorry, mother, that I should inherit this un¬
fortunate slowness of apprehension, but I’ll do my best to
understand you, if you’ll only go straight on.”

“ Your poor papa! He never knew till it was too late
what I would have had him do! ”

This was undoubtedly the case, inasmuch as the deceased
Mr. Nickleby had not arrived at the knowledge when he
died. Neither had Mrs. Nickleby herself, which is, in some
sort, an explanation of the circumstance.

“ However,” drying her tears, “ this has nothing to do —
certainly, nothing whatever to do — with the gentleman in
the next house.”

“ I should suppose that the gentleman in the next house
has as little to do with us.”

“ There can be no doubt that he is a gentleman, and has
the manners of a gentleman, although he does wear knee
breeches and grey worsted stockings. That may be eccen¬
tricity, or he may be proud of his legs. I don’t see why
he shouldn’t be. The Prince Regent was proud of his legs,
and so was Daniel Lambert.”

Nicholas looked on, quite amazed at the introduction of this
new theme, which seemed just what Mrs. Nickleby had ex¬
pected him to be.

“ You may well be surprised, Nicholas, my dear. I am sure
I was. It came upon me like a flash of fire and almost froze
my blood. The bottom of his garden joins the bottom of

330

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

ours, and of course I had several times seen him sitting
among the scarlet beans in his little arbour, or working at
his little hotbeds. I used to think he stared rather, but I
didn’t take any particular notice of that, as we were new¬
comers, and he might be curious to see what we were like.
But when he began to throw his cucumbers over our
wall - ”

“ To throw his cucumbers over our wall? ” repeated Nicho¬
las, in great astonishment.

“ Yes, Nicholas, my dear, his cucumbers over our wall.
And vegetable marrows likewise.”

“ Confound his impudence ! What does he mean by that ? ”

“ I don’t think he means it impertinently at all.”

“ What ! Cucumbers and vegetable marrows flying at
the heads of the family as they walk in their own garden,
and not meant impertinently ! Why, mother - ”

Nicholas stopped short; for there was an indescribable
expression of placid triumph, mingled with a modest con¬
fusion, which arrested his attention suddenly.

“ He must be a very weak, and foolish, and inconsiderate
man, blamable, indeed — at least I suppose other people
would consider him so. Of course, I can’t be expected to
express any opinion on that point, especially after always
defending your poor dear papa when other people blamed him
for making proposals to me; and to be sure there can be no
doubt that he has taken a very singular way of showing it.
Still at the same time, his attentions are — that is, as
far as it goes, and to a certain extent, of course — a flat¬
tering sort of thing. And although I should never dream
of marrying again with a dear girl like Kate still unsettled
in life - ”

“ Surely, mother, such an idea never entered your brain
for an instant ? ”

“ Bless my heart, Nicholas, my dear, isn’t that precisely

NICHOLAS NICKLE BY

331

what I am saying, if you would only let me speak? Of
course, I never gave it a second thought, and I am surprised
and astonished that you should suppose me capable of such
a thing. All I say is, what step is the best to take, so as
to reject these advances civilly and delicately, and without
hurting his feelings too much, and driving him to despair,
or anything of that kind ? My goodness me ! Suppose
he was to go doing anything rash to himself. Could I ever
be happy again, Nicholas ? ”

Despite his vexation and concern, Nicholas could scarcely
help smiling, as he answered: “ Now do you think, mother,
that such a result would be likely to ensue from the most
cruel repulse ? ”

“ Upon my word, my dear, I don’t know; really, I don’t
know.”

“ But this man — what has he done, mother, what has he
said? You know there is no language of vegetables which
converts a cucumber into a formal declaration of attach¬
ment.”

“ My dear,” tossing her head and looking at the ashes
in the grate, “ he has done and said all sorts of things.”

“ Is there no mistake on your part ? ”

“Mistake! Lord, Nicholas, my dear, do you suppose I
don’t know when a man’s in earnest ? ”

“ Well, well! ”

“ Every time I go to the window he kisses one hand and
lays the other upon his heart — of course, it’s very foolish
of him to do so, and I dare say you’ll say it’s very wrong,
but he does it very respectfully — very respectfully indeed —
and very tenderly, extremely tenderly. So far, he deserves
the greatest credit; there can be no doubt about that. Then
there are the presents which come pouring over the wall every
day, and very fine they certainly are, very fine. We had
one of the cucumbers at dinner yesterday and think of

332

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

pickling the rest for next winter. And last evening, he called
gently over the wall, as I was walking in the garden, and
proposed marriage and an elopement. His voice is as clear
as a bell or a musical glass — very like a musical glass indeed
— but, of course, I didn't listen to it. Then the question is,
Nicholas, my dear, what am I to do? ”

“ Does Kate know of this? ”

“ I have not said a word about it yet.”

“ Then, for heaven's sake,” rising, “ do not, for it would
make her very unhappy. And with regard to what you
should do, my dear mother, do what your good sense and
feeling and respect for my father’s memory would prompt.
There are a thousand ways in which you can show your
dislike of these preposterous and doting attentions. If you
act as decidedly as you ought, and they are still continued, and
to your annoyance, I can speedily put a stop to them. But
I should not interfere in a matter so ridiculous and attach
importance to it until you have vindicated yourself. Most
women can do that, but especially one of your age and condi¬
tion, in circumstances like these, which are unworthy of a
serious thought. I would not shame you by seeming to take
them to heart or treat them earnestly for an instant. Absurd
old idiot! ”

So saying, Nicholas kissed his mother and bade her good
night, and they retired to their respective rooms.

To do Mrs. Nickleby justice, her attachment to her children
would have prevented her seriously contemplating a second
marriage, even if she could have so far conquered her recol¬
lections of her late husband as to have any strong inclinations
that way. But although there was no evil and little real
selfishness in Mrs. Nickleby’s heart, she had a weak head
and a vain one; and there was something so flattering in being
sought (and vainly sought) in marriage at this time of day
that she could not dismiss the passion of the unknown gentle-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 333

man quite so summarily or lightly as Nicholas appeared to
deem becoming.

“ As to its being preposterous and doting and ridiculous,”
thought Mrs. Nickleby, communing with herself in her own
room, “ I don’t see that at all. It’s hopeless on his part,
certainly; but why he should be an absurd old idiot, I con¬
fess I don’t see. He is not to be supposed to know it’s hope¬
less. Poor fellow! He is to be pitied, I think! ”

Having made these reflections, Mrs. Nickleby looked in
her little dressing glass and, walking backward a few steps
from it, tried to remember who it was who used to say that
when Nicholas was one-and-twenty he would have more the
appearance of her brother than her son. Not being able
to call the authority to mind, she extinguished her candle and
drew up the window blind to admit the light of morning,
which had, by this time, begun to dawn.

“ It’s a bad light to distinguish objects in,” murmured
Mrs. Nickleby, peering into the garden, “ and my eyes are
not very good — I was shortsighted from a child — but upon
my word I think there’s another large vegetable marrow
sticking, at this moment, on the broken glass bottles at the
top of the wall ! ”

CHAPTER XXY

WHEN Nicholas returned from executing some commis¬
sion and inquired whether Mr. Cherryble was alone in
his room, Tim replied in the affirmative, although somebody
had passed into the room not ten minutes before.

“ I’ll take this letter to him at once if that’s the case,”
Nicholas said. And with that he walked to the room and
knocked at the door.

334

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

No answer.

Another knock, and still no answer.

“ He can’t be here. I’ll lay it on his table.”

Nicholas opened the door and walked in, but very quickly
he turned to walk out again when he saw to his great astonish¬
ment a young lady upon her knees at Mr. Cheeryble’s feet,
and Mr. Cheeryble beseeching her to rise, and entreating the
young lady’s female attendant to add her persuasions to his
to induce her to do so.

Nicholas stammered out an awkward apology, and was
hurrying out when the young lady, turning her head a little,
presented to his view the features of the lovely girl whom he
had seen at the employment office on his first visit long be¬
fore. Glancing from her to the attendant, he recognized the
same clumsy servant who had accompanied her then; and
between his admiration of the young lady’s beauty and the
confusion and surprise of this unexpected recognition, he
stood stock-still in such a bewildered state of surprise and
embarrassment that, for the moment, he was quite bereft of
the power either to speak or move.

“ My dear ma’am — my dear young lady,” cried Brother
Charles in violent agitation, “ pray don’t — not another word.
I beseech and entreat you! I implore you — I beg of you
— to rise. We — we — are not alone.”

As he spoke, he raised the young lady, who staggered to a
chair and fainted away.

“ She has fainted, sir,” said Nicholas, darting eagerly for¬
ward.

“ Poor dear, poor dear ! Where is my brother Ned ? Ned,
my dear brother, come here, pray.”

“ Brother Charles, my dear fellow,” replied his brother,
hurrying into the room, “ what is the — ah ! what - ”

“Hush! hush! — not a word for your life, Brother Ned.
Ring for the housekeeper — call Tim Linkinwater! Here,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 335

Tim Linkinwater, sir — Mr. Nickleby, my dear sir, leave
the room, I beg and beseech of you.”

“ I think she is better now,” said Nicholas, who had been
watching the patient so eagerly that he had not heard the
request.

“ Poor bird ! ” cried Brother Charles, gently taking her
hand in his and laying her head upon his arm. “ Brother
Ned, my dear fellow, you will be surprised, I know, to witness
this, in business hours ; but - ” here he was again re¬

minded of the presence of Nicholas and, shaking him by the
hand, earnestly requested him to leave the room and to send
Tim Linkinwater without an instant’s delay.

Nicholas immediately withdrew, and on his way to the
countinghouse met both the old housekeeper and Tim Linkin¬
water, jostling each other in the passage and hurrying to the
scene of action with extraordinary speed. Without waiting
to hear his message, Tim Linkinwater darted into the room
and presently afterwards Nicholas heard the door shut and
locked on the inside.

He had abundance of time to ruminate on this discovery,
for Tim Linkinwater was absent during the greater part of
an hour, during the whole of which time Nicholas thought
of nothing but the young lady and her exceeding beauty, and
what could possibly have brought her there, and why they
made such a mystery of it. The more he thought of all
this, the more anxious he became to know who and what she
was. “ I should have known her among ten thousand.”
And with that he walked up and down the room and, recall¬
ing her face and figure (of which he had a peculiarly vivid
remembrance), discarded all other subjects of reflections
and dwelt upon that alone.

At length Tim Linkinwater came back — provokingly cool,
and with papers in his hand, and a pen in his mouth, as if
nothing had happened.

336 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Is she quite recovered? ” said Nicholas, impetuously.

“ Who?”

“ Who! ”

“ What do you make, Mr. Nickleby,” said Tim, taking his
pen out of his mouth, “ what do you make of four hundred and
twenty-seven times three thousand two hundred and thirty-
eight ? ”

“ Nay, what do you make of my question first? I asked
you - ”

“ About the young lady,” putting on his spectacles. “To
be sure. Yes. Oh! she’s very well.”

“ Very well, is she? ”

“ Very well.”

“ Will she be abfe to go home today ? ”

“ She’s gone.”

“ Gone! ”

“ Yes.”

“ I hope she has not far to go ? ” looking earnestly at the
other.

“ Ay,” replied the immovable Tim, “ I hope she hasn’t.”

Nicholas hazarded one or two further remarks, but it was
evident that Tim Linkinwater had his own reasons for evad¬
ing the subject, and that he was determined to afford no fur¬
ther information respecting the fair unknown, who had
awakened so much curiosity in the breast of his young friend.
Nothing daunted by this repulse, Nicholas returned to the
charge next day, emboldened by the circumstance of Mr.
Linkinwater being in a very talkative mood; but he no sooner
resumed the theme than Tim relapsed into a state of the most
provoking taciturnity and, from answering in monosyllables,
came to returning no answers at allv save such as were to be
inferred upon several grave nods and shrugs, which only
served to whet that appetite for intelligence in Nicholas,
which had already attained a most unreasonable height.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

337

Foiled in these attempts, he was fain to content himself
with watching for the young lady’s next visit, but here again
he was disappointed. Day after day passed, and she did not
return. He looked eagerly at the superscription of all the
notes and letters, but there was not one among them which
he could fancy to be in her handwriting.

He told Newman Noggs about this lovely girl, for whom
he had taken such a fancy, and he and Newman tried to
find her address; but though they searched many days and
weeks, it seemed impossible to find any trace of her.

Ever since her last momentous conversation with her son,
Mrs. Nickleby had begun to display unusual care in the
adornment of her person. Even her black dress assumed
something of a deadly-lively air from the jaunty style in
which it was worn. This was especially noticeable one day
when Kate proposed that they should take their work into
the summerhouse and enjoy the beauty of the afternoon.
Mrs. Nickleby readily assented, and to the summerhouse
they went without further discussion.

“ Well, I will say,” observed Mrs. Nickleby, as she took
her seat, “ that there never was such a good creature as
Smike. Upon my word, the pains he has taken in putting
this little arbour to rights and training the sweetest flowers
about it are beyond anything I could have — I wish he
wouldn’t put all the gravel on your side, Kate, my dear,
though, and leave nothing but mould for me.”

“ Dear mama, take this seat — do — to oblige me, mama.”

“ No, indeed, my dear. I shall keep my own side. Well!
I declare!

Kate looked up inquiringly.

“ If he hasn’t got from somewhere or other a couple of
roots of those flowers that I said I was so fond of the other
night, and asked you if you were not — no, that you said you

338

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

were so fond of, the other night, and asked me if I wasn’t
— it’s the same thing. Now upon my word, I take that as
very kind and attentive indeed! I don’t see any of them,
on my side, but I suppose they grow best near the gravel.
You may depend upon it they do, Kate, and that’s the reason
they are all near you, and he has put the gravel there, be¬
cause it’s the sunny side. Upon my word, that’s very
clever now! I shouldn’t have had half so much thought
myself! ” After a short pause Mrs. Nickleby was about
to proceed on another discourse, when a loud “ Hem ! ”
which appeared to come from the very foundation of the
garden wall gave both herself and her daughter a violent
start.

“ Mama ! what was that ? ”

“ Upon my word, my dear, unless it was the gentleman
belonging to the next house I don’t know what it could pos¬
sibly - ”

“A — hem,” cried the same voice; and that not in the tone
of an ordinary clearing of the throat but in a kind of bellow,
which woke up all the echoes in the neighbourhood, and was
prolonged to an extent which must have made the unseen
bellower quite black in the face.

“ I understand it now, my dear; don’t be alarmed, my
love; it’s not directed to you; and it is not intended to frighten
anybody. Let us give everybody their due, Kate ; I am bound
to say that.”

So saying, Mrs. Nickleby nodded her head and patted
the back of her daughter’s hand a great many times, and
looked as if she could tell something vastly important if
she chose, but had self-denial, thank heaven, and wouldn’t
do it.

“ What do you mean, mama ? ”

“ Don’t be flurried, my dear,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, look¬
ing towards the garden wall, “ for you see I’m not, and if it

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

339

would be excusable in anybody to be flurried, it certainly
would — under all circumstances — be excusable in me, but
I am not, Kate, not at all.”

“ It seems designed to attract our attention, mama.”

“ It is designed to attract our attention, my dear; at least,
to attract the attention of one of us. Hem! you needn’t be
at all uneasy, my dear.”

Kate looked very much perplexed and was apparently about
to ask for further explanation when a shouting and scuffling
noise, as of an elderly gentleman whooping and kicking up
his legs on loose gravel with great violence, was heard to
proceed from the same direction as the former sounds; and
before they had subsided, a large cucumber was seen to
shoot up in the air with the velocity of a sky rocket, whence
it descended, tumbling over and over, until it fell at Mrs.
Nickleby’s feet.

This remarkable appearance was succeeded by another
of a precisely similar description; then a fine vegetable
marrow, of unusually large dimensions, was seen to whirl
aloft and come toppling down; then several cucumbers shot
up together; finally the air was darkened by a shower of
onions, turnips, radishes, and other small vegetables, which
fell rolling and scattering and bumping about in all direc¬
tions.

As Kate rose from her seat in some alarm, and caught her
mother’s hand to run with her into the house, she felt her¬
self rather retarded than assisted in her intention and, fol¬
lowing the direction of Mrs. Nickleby’s eyes, was quite terri¬
fied by the apparition of an old black velvet cap, which, by
slow degrees, as if its wearer were ascending a ladder or
pair of steps, rose above the wall dividing their garden from
that of the next cottage, and was gradually followed by a very
large head and an old face, in which were a pair of most
extraordinary grey eyes, very wild, very wide open, and

340

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

rolling in their sockets, with a dull, languishing, leering look,
most ugly to behold.

“ Mama ! why do you stop ; why do you lose an instant ?
Mama, pray come in! ”

“ Kate, my dear, how can you be so foolish? I’m ashamed
of you. How do you suppose you are ever to get through
life if you’re such a coward as this? What do you want,
sir ? How dare you look into this garden ? ”

“ Queen of my soul,” replied the stranger, folding his
hands together, “ this goblet sip 1 ”

“ Nonsense, sir. Kate, my love, pray be quiet.”

“ Won’t you sip the goblet? ” urged the stranger, with his
head imploringly on one side, and his right hand on his
breast. “ Oh, do sip the goblet! ”

“ I shall not consent to do anything of the kind, sir. Pray
begone.”

“ Why is it,” said the old gentleman, coming up a step
higher, and leaning his elbows on the wall with as much com¬
placency as if he were looking out a window, “ why is it
that beauty is always obdurate, even when admiration is
as honourable and respectful as mine?” Here he smiled,
kissed his hand, and made several low bows. “ Is it owing
to the bees, who, when the honey season is over, and they are
supposed to have been killed with brimstone, in reality fly
to Barbary and lull the captive Moors to sleep with their
drowsy songs? Or is it,” he added, dropping his voice
almost to a whisper, “ in consequence of the statue at Charing
Cross having been lately seen on the Stock Exchange at mid¬
night, walking arm in arm with the Pump from Aldgate, in
a riding habit ? ”

“ Mama, do you hear him ? ”

“ Hush, my dear ! he is very polite, and I think that was a
quotation from the poets. Pray, don’t worry me so — you’ll
pinch my arm black and blue. Go away, sir! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 341

“ Quite away ? ” said the gentleman, with a languishing
look. “ Oh ! quite away ? ”

“ Yes, certainly. You have no business here. This is
private property, sir; you ought to know that.”

“ I do know,” said the old gentleman, laying his finger on
his nose, with an air of familiarity most reprehensible, “ that
this is a sacred and enchanted spot, where the most divine
charms ” — here he kissed his hand and bowed again —
“ waft mellifluousness over the neighbours’ gardens and force
the fruit and vegetables into premature existence. That fact
I am acquainted with. But you will permit me, fairest crea¬
ture, to ask you one question, in the absence of the planet
Venus, who has gone on business to the Horse Guards and
would otherwise — jealous of your superior charms — inter¬
pose between us ? ”

“ Kate, it’s very awkward, positively. I really don’t
know what to say to this gentleman. One ought to be civil,
you know.”

“ Dear mama, don’t say a word to him, but let us run
away as fast as we can, and shut ourselves up till Nicholas
comes home.”

Mrs. Nickleby looked very grand, not to say contemptu¬
ous, at this humiliating proposal and, turning to the old
gentleman, who had watched them during these whispers
with absorbing eagerness, said :

“ If you will conduct yourself like the gentleman I should
imagine you to be and will put your question to me in plain
words, I will answer it.”

He took off his black velvet cap and, exhibiting a perfectly
bald head, made a long series of bows, each accompanied
with a fresh kiss of the hand. After exhausting himself with
this fatiguing performance, he covered his head once more,
pulled the cap very carefully over the tips of his ears, and,
resuming his former attitude, said,

342

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ The question is - ”

Here he broke off to look round in every direction and satisfy
himself beyond all doubt that there was no listeners near.
Assured that there were not, he tapped his nose several times,
accompanied the action with a cunning look, as though he
congratulated himself on his caution, stretched out his
neck, and said in a loud whisper,

“ Are you a princess ? ”

“ You are mocking me, sir,” replied Mrs. Nickleby, making
a feint of retreating towards the house.

No, but are you? ” said the old gentleman.

“ You know I am not, sir.”

“ Then are you any relation to the Archbishop of Canter¬
bury? Or to the Pope of Rome? Or the Speaker of the
House of Commons? Forgive me if I am wrong, but I was
told you were niece to the Commissioners of Paving and
daughter-in-law to the Lord Mayor and Court of Common
Council, which would account for your relationship to all
three.”

“ Whoever has spread such reports, sir, has taken great
liberties with my name, and one which I am sure my son
Nicholas, if he was aware of it, would not allow for an
instant. The idea! Niece to the Commissioners of Pav¬
ing! ” .

“ Pray, mama, come away! ” whispered Kate.

“ Pray, mama! Nonsense, Kate, but that’s just the way.
If they had said I was niece to a piping bullfinch, what would
you care! But I have no sympathy,” whimpered Mrs.
Nickleby, “ I don’t expect it, that’s one thing.”

“ Tears ! ” cried the old gentleman, with such an energetic
jump that he fell down two or three steps and grated his
chin against the wall. “ Catch the crystal globules — catch
’em — bottle ’em up — cork ’em tight — put sealing wax on
the top — seal ’em with a cupid — label ’em ‘ Best quality ’

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 343

— and stow ’em away in the fourteen bin, with a bar of iron
on the top to keep the thunder off! ”

Issuing these commands, he turned his velvet cap inside
out, put it on with great dignity so as to obscure his right eye
and three-fourths of his nose, and sticking his arms akimbo,
looked very fiercely at a sparrow hard by till the bird flew
away. He then put his cap in his pocket with an air of
great satisfaction and addressed himself with respectful
demeanour to Mrs. Nickleby.

“ Beautiful madam, if I have made any mistake with re¬
gard to your family or connexions, I humbly beseech you to
pardon me. If I supposed you to be related to Foreign
Powers or Native Boards, it is because you have the manner,
a carriage, a dignity which, you will excuse my saying,
none but yourself (with the single exception of the tragic
muse, when playing extemporaneously on the barrel organ
before the East India Company) can parallel. I am not a
youth, ma’am, as you see; and although beings like you can
never grow old, I venture to presume that we are fitted for
each other.”

“ Really, Kate, my love! ” said Mrs. Nickleby, faintly and
looking the other way.

“ I have estates, ma’am,” said the old gentleman, flourish¬
ing his right hand negligently, as if he made very light of
such matters, and speaking very fast, “ jewels, lighthouses,
fish ponds, a whalery of my own in the North Sea, and several
oyster beds of great profit in the Pacific Ocean. If you will
have the kindness to step down to the Royal Exchange and to
take the cocked hat off the stoutest beadle’s head, you will
find my card in the lining of the crown, wrapped up in a piece
of blue paper. My walking stick is also to be seen on
application to the chaplain of the House of Commons, who
is strictly forbidden to take any money for showing it. I
have enemies about me, ma’am,” he looked towards his

344

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

house and spoke very low, “ who attack me on all occasions
and wish to secure my property. If you bless me with your
hand and heart, you can apply to the Lord Chancellor or
call out the military if necessary — sending my toothpick
to the commander-in-chief will be sufficient — and so clear the
house of them before the ceremony is performed. After that,
love, bliss, and rapture; rapture, love, and bliss. Be mine,
be mine! ”

Repeating these last words with great rapture and en¬
thusiasm, the old gentleman put on his black velvet cap
again and, looking up into the sky in a hasty manner, said
something that was not quite intelligible concerning a
balloon he expected and which was rather after its time.

" Be mine, be mine! ” repeated the old gentleman.

“ Kate, my dear, I have hardly the power to speak; but
it is necessary for the happiness of all parties that this
matter should be set at rest for ever.”

“ Surely there is no necessity for you to say one word,
mama?”

“ You will allow me, my dear, if you please, to judge for
myself.”

“ Be mine, be mine! ” cried the old gentleman.

“ It can scarcely be expected, sir,” said Mrs. Nickleby,
fixing her eyes modestly on the ground, 1 that I should tell
a stranger whether I feel flattered and obliged by such pro¬
posals, or not. They certainly are made under very singular
circumstances; still at the same time, as far as it goes,
and to a certain extent, of course, they must be gratifying
and agreeable to one’s feelings.”

“ Be mine, be mine. Gog and Magog, Gog and Magog.
Be mine, be mine ! ”

“ It will be sufficient for me to say, sir, that I’m sure you’ll
see the propriety of taking an answer and going away — that
I have made up my mind to remain a widow and to devote

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

345

myself to my children. You may not suppose I am the
mother of two children — indeed many people have doubted
it and said that nothing on earth could ever make ’em believe
it possible — but it is the case, and they are both grown up.
We shall be very glad to have you for a neighbour — very
glad; delighted, I’m sure — but in any other character it’s
quite impossible, quite. As to my being young enough to
marry again, that perhaps may be so, or it may not be; but
I couldn’t think of it for an instant, not on any account what¬
ever. I said I never would, and I never will. It’s a very
painful thing to have to reject proposals, and I would much
rather that none were made; at the same time, this is the
answer that I determined long ago to make, and this is the
answer I shall always give.”

These observations were partly addressed to the old gentle¬
man, partly to Kate, and partly delivered in soliloquy.
Towards their conclusion, the suitor evinced a very irreverent
degree of inattention, and Mrs. Nickleby had scarcely finished
speaking when, to the great terror both of that lady and
her daughter, he suddenly flung off his coat and, springing on
the top of the wall, threw himself into an attitude which
displayed his short knee breeches and grey worsted stockings
to the fullest advantage, and concluded by standing on one
leg and repeating his favourite bellow with increased vehe¬
mence.

While he was still dwelling on the last note and embellish¬
ing it with a prolonged flourish, a dirty hand was observed
to glide stealthily and swiftly along the top of the wall, as if
in pursuit of a fly, and then to clasp one of the old gentle¬
man’s ankles. This done, the companion hand appeared
and clasped the other ankle.

Thus encumbered the old gentleman lifted his legs awk¬
wardly once or twice, and then looking down on his own
sicje of the w$ll hurst into a loud laugh.

346

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ It’s you, is it? ” said the old gentleman.

“ Yes, it’s me/’ replied a gruff voice.

“How’s the Emperor of Tartary? ” said the old gentle¬
man.

“ Oh! he’s much the same as usual,” was the reply. “ No
better and no worse.”

“ The young Prince of China,” said the old gentleman, with
much interest, “ is he reconciled to his father-in-law, the
great potato salesman?”

“ No,” answered the gruff voice, “ and he says he never will
be, that’s more.” '

“ If that’s the case, perhaps I’d better come down.”

“ Well,” said the man on the other side, “ I think you had,
perhaps.”

One of the hands being then cautiously unclasped, the old
gentleman dropped into a sitting posture, and was looking
round to smile and bow to Mrs. Nickleby when he disap¬
peared with some precipitation, as if his legs had been pulled
from below.

Very much relieved by his disappearance, Kate was turning
to speak to her mother when the dirty hands again became
visible and were immediately followed by the figure of a
coarse squat man, who ascended by the steps which had
been occupied by their singular neighbour.

“ Beg your pardon, ladies,” said the newcomer, grinning and
touching his hat. “ Has he been making love to either of
you?”

“ Yes,” said Kate.

“Ah! ” rejoined the man, taking his handkerchief out of
his hat and wiping his face, “he always will, you know.
Nothing will prevent his making love.”

“ I need not ask you if he is out of his mind, poor creature,”
said Kate.

“ Why no; that’s pretty plain, that is.”

347

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Has he been long so ? ”

“ A long while”

“ And is there no hope for him ? ”

Not a bit and don’t deserve to be,” replied the keeper.
“ He’s a deal pleasanter without his senses than with ’em.
He was the crudest, wickedest old flint that ever drawed
breath.”

“ Indeed! ” said 'Kate.

“ By George ! I never came across such a vagabond, and
my mate says the same. Broke his poor wife’s heart, turned
his daughters out of doors, drove his sons into the streets;
it was a blessing he went mad at last, through evil tempers,
and guzzling and drinking, or he’d have drove many others
so. Hope for him, an old rip! It’s good there isn’t much
hope for such as him.”

But Mrs. Nickleby said to her daughter on their way
to the house :

“ Why then, I just tell you this, Kate. That poor
gentleman is not at all out of his mind. I am surprised that
you can be so imposed upon. It’s some plot of these
people to possess themselves of his property — didn’t he
say so himself? He may be a little odd and flighty, per¬
haps; many of us are that; but downright insane ! and express
himself as he does, respectfully, and in quite poetical lan¬
guage, and making offers with so much thought and care and
prudence — not as if he ran into the streets, and went down
upon his knees to the first girl he met as a madman would.
No, no, Kate, there’s a great deal too much method in his
madness; depend upon that, my dear.”

348

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XXVI

ON the way home from an errand one evening Smike
was looking in at the window of a jewelry store, wish¬
ing he could take some of the beautiful trinkets home as
presents, when the clock struck three-quarters past eight.
Roused by the sound, he hurried on at a quick pace and
was crossing the corner of a by-street when he felt himself
violently brought to, with a jerk so sudden that he was obliged
to cling to a lamp post to save himself from falling. At the
same moment, a small boy clung tight round his leg, and a
shrill cry of “ Here he is, father! Hooray! ” vibrated in his
ears.

Smike knew that voice too well. He cast his despairing
eyes downward towards the form from which it had pro¬
ceeded, and, shuddering from head to foot, looked round.
Mr. Squeers had hooked him in the coat collar with the handle
of his umbrella, and was hanging on at the other end with
all his might and main. The cry of triumph proceeded from
Master Wackford, who, regardless of all his kicks and strug¬
gles, clung to him with the tenacity of a bulldog !

One glance showed Smike this, and in that one glance the
terrified boy became utterly powerless and unable to utter
a sound.

“ Here’s a go! ” cried Mr. Squeers, gradually coming hand¬
over-hand down the umbrella, and only unhooking it when
he had got tight hold of the victim’s collar. “ Here’s a deli¬
cious go. Wackford, my boy, call up one of them coaches.”
“ A coach, father! ”

“ Yes, a coach, sir,” feasting his eyes upon the countenance
of Smike. “ Darn the expense. Let’s have him in a coach.”
“ What’s he been doing of? ” asked a labourer with a hod

Here he is, father. Hooray! ” vibrated in his ears

350

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

of bricks, against whom and a fellow labourer Mr. Squeers
had backed, on the first jerk of the umbrella.

“ Everything ! ” looking fixedly at his old pupil in a sort
of rapturous trance. “Everything — running away, sir —
joining in bloodthirsty attacks upon his master — there’s
nothing that’s bad that he hasn’t done. Oh, what a delicious
go is this here, good Lord! ”

The man looked from Squeers to Smike, but such mental
faculties as the poor fellow possessed had utterly deserted
him. The coach came up, Master Wackford entered, Squeers
pushed in his prize, and, following close at his heels, pulled up
the glasses. The coachman mounted his box and drove
slowly off.

Mr. Squeers sat himself down on the opposite seat to the
unfortunate Smike and, planting his hands firmly on his
knees, looked at him for some five minutes when, seeming to
recover from his trance, he uttered a loud laugh and slapped
his old pupil’s face several times — taking the right and left
sides alternately.

“ It isn’t a dream. That’s real flesh and blood! I know
the feel of it ! ” And being quite assured of his good fortune
by the experiments, Mr. Squeers administered a few boxes
on the ear, lest the entertainment should seem to partake of
sameness, and laughed louder and longer at every one.

“ Mother will be fit to jump out of her skin, my boy, when
she hears of this.”

“ Oh, won’t she though, father.”

“ To think that you and me should be turning out of a street,
and come upon him at the very nick; and that I should have
him tight, at only one cast of the umbrella, as if I had hooked
him with a grappling iron! Ha, ha! ”

“ Didn’t I catch hold of his leg, neither, father? ”

“You did, like a good ’un, my boy,” patting his son’s head,
“ and you shall have the best button-over jacket and waist-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

351

coat that the next new boy brings down, as a reward of merit.
Mind that. You always keep on in the same path, and do
them things that you see your father do, and when you die
you’ll go right slap to heaven and no questions asked.”

Improving the occasion in these words, Mr. Squeers patted
his son’s head again, and then patted Smike’s — but harder,
and inquired in a bantering tone how he found himself by
this time.

“ I must go home,” said Smike, looking wildly round.

“ To be sure you must. You’re about right there. You’ll
go home very soon, you will. You’ll find yourself at the
peaceful village of Dotheboys, in Yorkshire, in something
under a week’s time, my young friend; and the next time
you get away from there, I give you leave to keep away.
Where’s the clothes you run off in, you ungrateful robber? ”

Smike glanced at the neat attire which the care of Nicholas
had provided for him and wrung his hands.

“ Ho you know that I could hang you up outside of the
Old Bailey for making away with them articles of property ?
Do you know that it’s a hanging matter — eh? Do you
know that? What do you suppose was the worth of them
clothes you had? Do you know that that Wellington
boot you wore cost eight-and-twenty shillings when it was a
pair, and the shoe seven and six? But you came to the right
shop for mercy when you came to me, and thank your stars
that it is me as has got to serve you with the articles.”

He followed up the remark by poking Smike in the chest
with the ferrule of his umbrella, and dealing a smart shower
of blows, with the ribs of the same instrument, upon his head
and shoulders.

“ I never thrashed a boy in a hackney coach before,” said
Mr. Squeers, when he stopped to rest. “ There’s incon¬
venience in it, but the novelty gives it a sort of relish, too ! ”

Poor Smike! He warded off the blows as well as he

352

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

could and shrank into a corner of the coach with his head
resting on his hands, and his elbows on his knees. He was
stunned and stupefied, and had no more idea that any act
of his would enable him to escape from the all-powerful
Squeers, now that he had no friend to speak to or advise with,
than he had had in all the weary years of his Yorkshire life
which preceded the arrival of Nicholas.

The journey seemed endless; street after street was entered
and left behind; and still they went jolting on. At last Mr.
Squeers began to thrust his head out of the window every half-
minute and to bawl a variety of directions to the coachman;
and after passing with some difficulty through several mean
streets, which the appearance of the houses and the bad
state of the road showed to have been recently built, Mr.
Squeers suddenly tugged at the check string with all his
might, and cried:

“ Stop! ”

“What are you pulling a man’s arm off for?” said the
coachman, looking angrily down.

“ That’s the house. The second of them four little houses,
one story high, with the green shutters. There’s a brass
plate on the door, with the name of Snawley.”

“ Couldn’t you say that without wrenching a man’s limbs
off his body ? ”

“No! ” bawled Mr. Squeers. “Say another word, and
I’ll summon you for having a broken winder. Stop! ”

Obedient to this direction, the coach stopped at Mr.
Snawley’s door. Mr. Snawley may be remembered as the
sleek and sanctified gentleman who confided two stepsons to
the parental care of Mr. Squeers. Mr. Snawley’s house was
on the extreme borders of some new settlements adjoining
Somers Town. Mr. Squeers had taken lodgings therein for
a short time, as his stay was longer than usual, and as the
Saracen, having had experience of young Master Wackford’s

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 353

appetite, declined to receive him on any terms than as a
full-grown customer.

“ Here we are ! ” said Squeers, hurrying Smike into the
little parlor, where Mr. Snawley and his wife were taking a
lobster supper. “ Here’s the vagrant — the felon — the rebel
— the monster of unthankfulness.”

“ What ! The boy that run away ! ” cried Snawley, resting
his knife and fork upright on the table and opening his eyes
to their full width.

“ The very boy,” said Squeers, putting his fist close to
Smike ’s nose, and drawing it away again, and repeating the
process several times with a vicious aspect. “ If there

w'asn’t a lady present, I’d fetch him such a - ; never mind,

I’ll owe it to him.”

Mr. Squeers related where, when, and in what manner he
had picked up the runaway.

“ It’s clear that there has been a Providence in it, sir,” said
Mr. Snawley, casting down his eyes with an air of humility
and elevating his fork, with a bit of lobster on the top of it,
towards the ceiling.

“ Providence is against him, no doubt,” replied Mr. Squeers,
scratching his nose. “ Of course, that was to be expected.
Anybody might have known that.”

“ Hard-heartedness and evil-doing will never prosper, sir,”
said Mr. Snawley.

“ Never was such a thing known,” rejoined Squeers, taking
a little roll of notes from his pocketbook to see that they
were all safe.

“ I have been, Mrs. Snawley,” said Mr. Squeers, when he
had satisfied himself upon this point, “ I have been that
chap’s benefactor, feeder, teacher, and clother. I have been
that chap’s classical, commercial, mathematical, philosophical,
and trigonomical friend. My son — my only son, Wack-
ford — has been his brother. Mrs. Squeers has been his

354

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

mother, grandmother, aunt, — ah ! and I may say uncle too,
all in one. She never cottoned to anybody, except them two
engaging and delightful boys of yours, as she cottoned to this
chap. What’s my return? What’s come of my milk of
human kindness? It turns into curds and whey when I
look at him.”

“ Well it may, sir,” said Mrs. Snawley. “ Oh, well it may,
sir.”

“Where has he been all this time?” inquired Snawley.
“ Has he been living with - ? ”

“Ah, sir!” interposed Squeers, confronting him again.
“ Have you been living with that there devilish Nickleby,
sir? ”

But no threats or cuffs could elicit from Smike one word of
reply to this question; for he had internally resolved that
he would rather perish in the wretched prison to which he
was again about to be consigned than utter one syllable which
could involve his first and true friend.

Finding every effort useless, Mr. Squeers conducted him to
a little back room upstairs, where he was to pass the night.
Taking the precaution of removing his shoes, and coat, and
waistcoat, and also of locking the door on the outside, lest
he should muster up sufficient energy to make an escape, that
worthy gentleman left him to his meditations.

The night, fraught with so much bitterness to one poor
soul, had given place to a bright and cloudless summer morn¬
ing, when a north-country mail coach clattered onward
to its halting place near the post office.

The only outside passenger was a burly, honest-looking
countryman on the box, who, with his eyes fixed upon the
dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral, appeared so wrapt in admiring
wonder as to be quite insensible to all the bustle of getting out
the bags and parcels, until one of the coach windows, being
let sharply down, he looked round and encountered a pretty
female face which was just then thrust out.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

355

“ See there, lass ! ” bawled the countryman, pointing to¬
wards the object of his admiration. “ There be Paul's
Church. ’Ecod, he be a soizable ’un, he be.”

“ Goodness, John! I shouldn’t have thought it could have
been half the size. What a monster! ”

“Monsther! — Ye’re aboot right theer, I reckon, Mrs.
Browdie,” said the countryman, good-humouredly, as he came
slowly down in his huge topcoat, “ and wa’at dost thee tak’
yon place to be noo — thot ’un ower the way? Ye’d never
coom near it ’gin ye thried for twolve moonths. It’s na’ but
a poast office ! Ho ! ho ! ”

So saying, John Browdie — for he it was — opened the
coach door and, tapping Mrs. Browdie, late Miss Price, on
the cheek as he looked in, burst into a boisterous fit of laugh¬
ter.

“Well! ” said John. “Dang my bootuns if the bean’t
asleep agean! ”

“ She’s been asleep all night, and was all yesterday, except
for a minute or two now and then,” replied John Browdie’s
choice, “ and I was very sorry when she woke, for she has been
so cross.”

The subject of these remarks was a slumbering figure, so
muffled in shawl and cloak that it would have been a matter of
impossibility to guess at its sex but for a brown beaver bonnet
and green veil which ornamented the head, and which, having
been crushed and flattened for two hundred and fifty miles
in that particular angle of the vehicle from which the lady’s
snc.res now proceeded, presented a very funny appearance.

“ Hollo ! ” cried John, twitching one end of the dragged
veil. “ Coom, wakken oop, will ’ee? ”

After several attempts at burrowings into the old corner,
and many exclamations of impatience and fatigue, the figure
struggled into a sitting posture; and there, under a mass of
crumpled beaver and surrounded by a semicircle of blue curl
papers, were the delicate features of Miss Fanny Squeers.

356

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Oh, ’Tilda ! How you have been akicking of me through
this blessed night! ”

“ Well, I do like that,” replied her friend, laughing, “ when
you have had nearly the whole coach to yourself.”

“ Don’t deny it, ’Tilda, because you have, and it’s no use
to go attempting to say you haven’t. You mightn’t have
known it in your sleep, ’Tilda, but I haven’t closed my eyes
for a single wink, and so I think I am to be believed.”

With which reply, Miss Squeers adjusted the bonnet and,
evidently flattering herself that it looked uncommonly neat,
brushed off the sandwich crumbs and bits of biscuit which
had accumulated in her lap and, availing herself of John
Browdie’s proffered arm, descended from the coach.

“ Noo,” said John, when a hackney coach had been called
and the ladies and the luggage hurried in, “ gang to the Sarah’s
Head, murr.”

“ To the vere? ” cried the coachman.

“ Lawk, Mr. Browdie! ” interrupted Miss Squeers. “ The
idea ! Saracen’s Head.”

“ Sure-ly, I know’d it was something aboot Sarah’s Son’s
Head. Dost thou know thot ? ”

“ Oh, ah ! I know that,” replied the coachman gruffly, as he
banged the door.

“ ’Tilda, dear, really we shall be taken for I don’t know
what.”

“ Let them tak’ us as the foind us, we dean’t come to
Lunnun to do nought but ’joy oursel, do we? ”

“ I hope not, Mr. Browdie.”

“ Well, then, it’s no matther. I’ve only been married
fower days, ’count of poor old feather deeing and puttin’t
off. Here be a weddin’ party — broide and broidesmaid, and
the groom — if a mun dean’t ’joy himself noo, when ought
he, hey? Drat it all, thot’s what I want to know.”

When they reached the Saracen’s Head Hotel, the party

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

357

straightway retired to rest, the refreshment of sleep being
necessary after so long a journey. They met again about noon
at a substantial breakfast, spread by direction of Mr. John
Browdie, in a small private room upstairs, commanding a
view of the yard and stables.

Miss Squeers now appeared dressed in a manner which
would attract a great deal of attention anywhere. She wore
a white dress with a broad pink belt around her waist, a large
white muslin bonnet with a very large pink rose on the inside,
and the top trimmed all over with little pink roses. Her hair
was curled in such tight corkscrew curls that it was im¬
possible for them to come out by any accident. Coral
bracelets made of beads strung together (rather short of
beads and with a visible black string) clasped her wrists, and
a long chain of the same beads hung around her neck with a
large red crystal heart hanging from this, typical of her own
disengaged affections.

Even the waiter looked very hard at Miss Squeers as he
handed her the muffins.

“ Is my pa in, do you know? ” said Fanny Squeers with an
air of great importance.

“ Beg your pardon, miss? ” said the waiter.

“ My pa; is he in? ”

“ In where, miss ? ”

“ In here — in the hotel ! My pa — Mr. Wackford Squeers
— he’s stopping here. Is he at home ? ”

“ I didn’t know there was any gen’lman of that name in the
house, Miss. There may be in the coffee room.”

May be! Very pretty this, indeed! Here was Miss
Squeers, who had been depending all the way to London upon
showing her friends how much respectful notice her name and
connexions would excite, told that her father might be there !
“As if he was a feller!” observed Miss Squeers, with
emphatic indignation.

358

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“Ye’d betther inquire, mun,” said John Browdie. “An’
hond up another pigeon pie, will ’ee? Dang the chap,”
muttered John, looking into the empty dish as the waiter
retired; “ does he ca’ this a pie — three young pigeons and a
troifling matther o’ steak, and a crust so loight that you
doant know when it’s in your mooth and when it’s gane?
I wonder hoo many pies goes to a breakfast ! ”

After a short interval, which John Browdie employed upon
the ham and a cold round of beef, the waiter returned with
another pie, and the information that Mr. Squeers was not
stopping in the house, but that he came there every day and
that, when he arrived, he should be shown upstairs. With
this he retired, and he had not retired two minutes when he
returned with Mr. Squeers and his hopeful son.

“ Why, who’d have thought of this ? ” said Mr. Squeers,
when he had saluted the party and received some private
family intelligence from his daughter.

“ Who, indeed, pa ! But you see ’Tilda is married at
last.”

“ And I stond threat for a soight o’ Lunnun, schoolmeas-
ther,” said John, vigorously attacking the pie.

“ One of them things that young men do when they get
married and as runs through with their money like nothing
at all! How much better wouldn’t it be now to save
it up for the eddication of any little boys, for instance.
They come on you before you’re aware of it; mine did
upon me.”

“ Will ’ee pick a bit? ” said John.

“I won’t myself, but if you’ll just let little Wackford
tuck into something fat, I’ll be obliged to you. Give it him
in his fingers, else the waiter charges it on, and there’s lot of
profit on this sort of vittles without that. If you hear the
waiter coming, sir, shove it in your pocket, and look out
the window, d’ye hear ? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

359

“ I’m awake, father.”

“ Well,” said Squeers, turning to his daughter, “ it’s your
turn to be married next. You must make haste.”

“ Oh, I’m in no hurry,” said Fanny Squeers.

“ What do you think ? Who do you suppose we have laid
hands on, Wackford and me? ” said her father, exultingly.

“ Pa ! not Mr. - ? ” Miss Squeers wras unable to finish

the sentence, but Mrs. Browdie did it for her, and added,
“ Nickleby ? ”

“ No, but next door to him, though.”

“You can’t mean Smike?” cried Miss Squeers, clapping
her hands.

“ Yes, I can though, I’ve got him, hard and fast.”

“Wa’at!” exclaimed John Browdie, pushing away his
plate. “ Got that poor — dom’d scoundrel ? Where ? ”

“ Why, in the top back room at my lodging, with him on
one side and the key on the other.”

“ At thy loodgin’ ! Thee’st gotten him at thy loodgin’ ?
Ho, ho! The schoolmeasther agin all England! Give us
thee hond, mun; I’m darned but I must shak thee by the
hond for thot — gotten him at thy loodgin’ ? ”

“ Yes,” replied Squeers, staggering in his chair under the
congratulatory blow on the chest which the stout Yorkshire-
man dealt him; “thankee. Don’t do it again. You mean
it kindly, I know, but it hurts rather. Yes, there he is.
That’s not so bad, is it ? ”

“ Ba’ad ! It’s eneaf to scare a mun to hear tell on.”

“ I thought it would surprise you a bit. It wras pretty
neatly done, and pretty quick, too.”

“ Hoo wor it ? Tell us all aboot it, mun ; coom, quick ! ”

Although he could not keep pace with John Browdie’s im¬
patience, Mr. Squeers related the lucky chance by which
Smike had fallen into his hands as quickly as he could and,
except when he was interrupted by the admiring remarks

360 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

of his auditors, paused not in the recital until he had brought
it to an end.

“ For fear he should give me the slip, by any chance, I’ve
taken three outside seats for tomorrow morning on the coach,
for Wackford and him and me — and have arranged to leave
the accounts and the new boys to the agent, don’t you see?
So it’s very lucky you come today, or you’d have missed us;
as it is, unless you could come and tea with me tonight, we
shan’t see anything more of you before we go away.”

“ Eean’t say anoother wurd,” shaking him by the hand.
“ We’d coom, if it was twonty mile,” said Mr. Browdie,
quickly.

“ No, would you though? ” returned Mr. Squeers, who had
not expected quite such a ready acceptance of his invitation,
or he would have considered twice before he gave it.

John Browdie’s only reply was another squeeze of the
hand and an assurance that they would not begin to see
London till tomorrow, so that they might be at Mr. Snawley’s
at six o’clock without fail. After some further conversation,
Mr. Squeers and his son departed.

During the remainder of the day, Mr. Browdie was in a
very odd and excitable state, bursting occasionally into an
explosion of laughter and then taking up his hat and running
into the coachyard to have it out by himself. He was very
restless, too, constantly walking in and out, and snapping
his fingers, and dancing scraps of uncouth country dances,
and, in short, conducting himself in such a very extraordinary
manner that Miss Squeers thought he was going mad, and,
begging her dear ’Tilda not to distress herself, communicated
her suspicions in so many words. Mrs. Browdie, however,
without discovering any great alarm, observed that she had
seen him so once before and that, although he was almost
sure to be ill after it, it would not be anything very serious,
and therefore he was better left alone.

,361

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The result proved her to be perfectly correct; for while
they were all sitting in Mr. Snawley’s parlor that night
just as it was beginning to get dusk, John Browdie was taken
so ill and seized with such an alarming dizziness in the head
that the whole company were thrown into the utmost con¬
sternation. His good lady was the only person present who
retained presence of mind enough to observe that, if he were
allowed to lie down on Mr. Squeers’s bed for an hour or so
and were left entirely to himself, he would be sure to recover
again almost as quickly as he had been taken ill . Accordingly,
John was supported upstairs, with great difficulty (being a
monstrous weight and regularly tumbling down two steps
every time they hoisted him up three) and, being laid on the
bed, was left in charge of his wife, who after a short interval
re-appeared in the parlour, with the gratifying intelligence
that he had fallen fast asleep.

Now the fact was, at that particular moment, that John
Browdie was sitting on the bed, with the reddest face ever
seen, cramming the corner of the pillow into his mouth to
prevent his roaring out loud with laughter. He had no
sooner succeeded in suppressing this emotion than he slipped
off his shoes and, creeping to the adjoining room where the
prisoner was confined, turned the key, which was on the
outside, and darting in, covered Smike’s mouth with his
huge hand before he could utter a sound.

“ Ods bobs, dost thee not know me, mun ? ” whispered the
Yorkshireman to the bewildered lad. “ Browdie. Chap as
met thee efther schoolmeasther was banged ? ”

“ Yes, yes. Oh ! help me.”

“ Help thee! ” replied John, stopping his mouth again,
the instant he had said thus much. “ Thee didn’t need help,
if thee wam’t as silly yoongster as ever draw’d breath.
Wa’at did ’ee come here for, then? ”

“ He brought me; oh! he brought me! ”

362

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“Brout thee! Why didn’t ’ee punch his head, or lay
theeself doon and kick, and squeal out for the pollis? I’d
ha’ licked a doozen such as him when I was yoong as thee.
But thee be’est a poor broken-doon chap, and God forgi’ me
for bragging ower yan o’ his weakest creeturs! ”

Smike opened his mouth to speak, but John Browdie
stopped him.

“ Stan’ still and doant ’ee speak a morsel o’ talk till I
tell ’ee.”

With this caution, John Browdie shook his head signifi¬
cantly and, drawing a screw driver from his pocket, took off
the box of the lock in a very deliberate and workmanlike
manner, and laid it, together with the implement, on the
floor.

“ See thot? Thot be thy doin’. Noo, coot awa’ ! ”

Smike looked vacantly at him, as if unable to comprehend
his meaning.

“I say, coot awa’. Dost thee know where thee livest?
Thee dost? Week Are yon thy clothes, or schoolmeasther’s ? ”

“ Mine,” replied Smike, as the Yorkshireman hurried him
to the? adjoining room and pointed out a pair of shoes and
coat which were lying on a chair.

“ On wi’ ’em! ” said John, forcing the wrong arm into the
wrong sleeve and winding the tails of the coat round the
fugitive’s neck. “ Noo foller me, and when thee get’st
ootside door, turn to the right, and they wean’t see thee
pass.”

“ But — but — he’ll hear me shut the door,” replied Smike,
trembling from head to foot.

“ Then dean’t shut it at all. Dang it, thee bean’t af eared o’
schoolmeasther’s takkin cold, I hope?”

“ N-no,” said Smike, his teeth chattering in his head.
“ But he brought me back before, and will again. He will,
he will indeed.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

363

“ He wull, he wull? He wean’t, he wean’t. Look’ee! I
wan’t to do this neighbourly loike, and let them think thee’s
gotten awa’ o’ theeself, but if he cooms oot o’ that parlour
awhiles thee’rt clearing off, he mun’ have mercy on his oun
boans, for I wean’t. If he foinds it oot, soon efther, I’ll put
un on a wrong scent, I warrant ’ee. But if thee keep’st a
good heart, thee’ll be at whoam afore they know thee’st
gotten off. Coom! ”

Smike, who comprehended just enough of this to know it
was intended as encouragement, prepared to follow with tot¬
tering steps when John whispered in his ear.

“ Thee’lt just tell yoong measther, that I’m sploiced to ’Tilly
Price, and to be heerd on at the Saracen by latther, and that
I bean’t jealous of ’un — dang it, I’m loke to boost when I
think o’ that neight ! ’Cod, I think I see ’un now, a powderin’
awa’ at the thin bread and butther! ”

It was rather a ticklish recollection for John just then, for
he was within an ace of breaking out into a loud guffaw.
Restraining himself, however, just in time, by a great effort,
he glided downstairs, hauling Smike behind him ; then placing
himself close to the parlour door to confront the first person
that might come out, he signed to Smike to make off.

Having got so far, Smike needed no second bidding.
Opening the house door gently and casting a look of mingled
gratitude and terror at his deliverer, he took the direction
which had been indicated to him and sped away like the
wind.

Without stopping for a moment to reflect upon which way
to go, he fled away with surprising swiftness, borne upon
such wings as only Fear can wear and, impelled by imaginary
shouts in the well-remembered voice of Squeers, who, with
a crowd of pursuers, seemed to the poor fellow’s disordered
senses to press hard upon his track. After a time the dark¬
ness and quiet of a country road made him think about his

364

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

surroundings, and the starry sky above warned him of the
rapid flight of time. Covered with dust, and panting for
breath, he stopped to listen and look about him.

All was still and silent. A glare of light in the distance,
casting a warm glow upon the sky, marked where the huge
city of London lay. He now made for this with almost the
same speed as that with which he had left the temporary
abode of Mr. Squeers. By the time he entered it, the greater
part of the shops were closed. There were only a few people
on the streets, but of these Smike asked his way from time to
time until he reached the dwelling of Newman Noggs.

All that evening Newman had been hunting and searching
in byways and corners for the very person who now knocked
at his door, while Nicholas had been pursuing the same in¬
quiry in other directions. Newman was sitting, with a
melancholy air, at his poor supper when Smike’s timorous and
uncertain knock reached his ears. Alive to every sound, in
his anxious and expectant state, Newman hurried down
stairs and, uttering a cry of joyful surprise, dragged the wel¬
come visitor into the passage and up the stairs, and said
not a word until he had him safe in his own garret and the
door was shut behind them, when he mixed a great mugful of
gin and water and, holding it to Smike’s mouth, as one might
hold a bowl of medicine to the lips of a refractory child,
commanded him to drink it all.

Newman looked blank when he found that Smike scarcely
put his lips to the precious mixture; he was in the act of
raising the mug to his own mouth with a deep sigh of com¬
passion for his poor friend when Smike, beginning to relate
his adventures, stopped him halfway, and he stood listening,
with the mug in his hand.

Soon he deposited the mug upon the table and limped up
and down the room in great excitement. When John Browdie
was mentioned, he dropped, by slow and gradual degrees

365

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

into a chair, and then, as the story reached the climax,
burst at last into a laugh composed of one loud sonorous
“ Ha, ha ! ” Having given vent to which, his countenance
immediately fell again, as he inquired with the utmost anxiety
whether it was probable that John Browdie and Squeers had
come to blows.

“No! I don’t think so,” replied Smike. “ I don’t think
he could have missed me till I had got quite away.”

Newman scratched his head with a show of great dis¬
appointment and, once more lifting up the mug, applied him¬
self to the contents, smiling meanwhile over the rim with a
grim and ghastly smile at Smike. Then he said:

“You shall stay here tonight. You’re tired — fagged.
I’ll tell them you’re come back. They have been half-crazy
about you. Mr. Nicholas - ”

“ God bless him! ” cried Smike.

“ Amen! ” returned Newman. “ He hasn’t had a minute’s
rest or peace ; no more has the old lady, nor Miss Nickleby.”

“No, no. Has she thought about me?” said Smike.
“ Has she thought ? Oh, has she ? Don’t tell me so, if she has
not.”

“She has,” cried Newman. “She is as noble-hearted as
she is beautiful.”

“ Yes, yes! ” cried Smike. “ Well said! ”

“ So mild and gentle,” said Newman.

“ Yes, yes! ” cried Smike, with increasing eagerness.

“And yet with such a true and gallant spirit,” pursued
Newman.

He was going on in his enthusiasm when, chancing to look
at Smike, he saw that he had covered his face with his
hands and that tears were on his face. A moment before,
the boy’s eyes were sparkling with an unusual fire, and every
feature had been lighted up with an excitement which made
him appear, for the moment, quite a different being.

366

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Well, well,” muttered Newman, as if he were a little
puzzled. At length he repeated his proposition that Smike
should remain where he was for that night and that he,
Noggs, should go to the cottage to relieve the suspense of
the family. But as Smike would not hear of this — pleading
his anxiety to see his friends again — they eventually sallied
forth together. The night being by this time far advanced
and Smike being so footsore that he could hardly crawl
along, it was within an hour of sunrise when they reached
the cottage of the Nickleby ’s.

At the first sound of their voices outside the house, Nicho¬
las, who had passed a sleepless night devising schemes for
the recovery of his lost charge, started from his bed and joy¬
fully admitted them. There was so much noisy conversation
and congratulation and indignation that the remainder
of the family were soon awakened, and Smike received a
warm and cordial welcome not only from Kate but from Mrs.
Nickleby also, who assured him of her future favour and
regard and was so obliging as to relate for his entertainment
and that of the assembled circle a most remarkable account
from some work, the name of which she had never known,
of a miraculous escape from some prison, but what prison
she couldn’t remember, effected by an officer whose name
she had forgotten, confined for some crime she didn’t clearly
recollect.

Nicholas made up his mind that he should certainly try
to have the schoolmaster receive a severe punishment, if pos¬
sible, but he did not know exactly how to bring this about.

CHAPTER XXVII

IN one of the smallest sitting rooms in the hotel, a tea
table was displayed in neat and inviting order. On
the table were joints of roast and boiled, a tongue, a pigeon

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 367

pie, a cold fowl, a tankard of ale, and other little matters
of the kind.

Mr. John Browdie, with his hands in his pockets, hovered
restlessly about these delicacies.

“Tilly! ” said John to his lady, who was reclining half-
asleep upon a sofa.

“Well, John! ”

“ Weel, John - ” retorted her husband, impatiently.

“ Dost thou feel hoongry, lass ? ”

“ Not very.”

“ Not vary! Hear her say 'not vary ’ and us dining at
three, and loonching off pasthry thot aggravates a mon ’stead
of pacifying him; Not vary! ”

“ Here’s a gent’l’man for you, sir,” said the waiter, looking
in.

“ A wa’at for me? ”

“A gent’l’man, sir.”

“ Stars and garthers, chap, wa’at dost thou coom in and
say thot for? In wi’ um.”

“ Are you at home, sir? ”

“ At whoam! I wish I were. I’d ha tea’d two hours ago.
Why, I told t’other chap to look sharp ootside door, and tell
’un d’rectly he coom thot we were faint wi’ hoonger. In wi’
un. — Aha ! Thee hond, Mister Nickleby. This is nigh to
be the proodest day o’ my life, sir. Hoo be all wi’ ye?
Ding ! But I’m glod o’ this ! ”

Quite forgetting even his hunger in the heartiness of his
salutation, John Browdie shook Nicholas by the hand again
and again, slapping his hand with great violence to add
warmth to the reception.

“ Aha ! There she be,” said J ohn, observing the look which
Nicholas directed towards his wife. “ There she be — we
shan’t quarrel about her noo — Eh ? Ecod, when I think o’
thot — but thou want’st soom’at to eat. Fall to, mun, faff
to, and for wa’at we’re aboot to receive - ” r

368

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

No doubt the grace was properly finished, but nothing more
was heard, for John had already begun to play such a knife
and fork that his speech was, for the time, gone.

“ You remember the night of our first tea drinking? ” said
Nicholas.

“ Shall I e’er forget it, mun? ”

“ He was a desperate fellow that night, though, was he
not,” said Mrs. Browdie. “ Quite a monster ? If you had
only heard him as we were going home, Mr. Nickleby, you’d
have said so indeed. I never was so frightened in all my
life.”

“ Coom, coom,” said John, with a broad grin; “thou
know’st better than thot, Tilly.”

“ So I was. I almost made up my mind never to speak to
you again.”

“A’most! ” said John with a broader grin than the last,
“a’most made up her mind ! And she wur coaxin’ and coaxin’
and wheedlin’ and wheedlin’ a’ the blessed wa’. ‘ Wa’at
dids’t thou let yon chap mak’ oop tiv’ ’ee for? ’ I says. 1 1
deedn’t, John,’ says she, squeedgin my arm. f You deedn’t! ’
says I. ‘ Noa! ’ says she, a squeedgin of me again.”

“Lor, John! ” interposed his pretty wife, colouring very
much. “ How can you talk such nonsense? As if I should
have dreamt of such a thing! ”

“ I dinnot know whether thou’d ever dreamt of it, but
thou didst it.”

“‘Ye’re a feeckle, changeable weathercock, lass,’ says I.

“ ‘ Not feeckle, John,’ says she.

“ ‘ Yes,’ says I, * feeckle, dom’d feeckle. Dinnot tell me
thou bean’ efther yon chap at schoolmeasther’s,’ says I.

“ ‘ Him! ’ says she, quite screeching.

“ ‘ Ah! him! ’ says I.

“ ‘ Why John,’ says she — and she coom a deal closer and
squeedged a deal harder than she’d deane afore, ‘ dost thou

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

369

think that having such a mun as thou to keep company wi’,
I’d ever tak’ oop wi’ such a leetle scanty whippersnapper as
yon ? ’ she says. Ha ! ha ! ha ! She said whippersnapper !
4 Ecod ! ’ I says, ‘efther thot, neame the day, and let’s have
it ower! ’ Ha, ha, ha! ”

Nicholas laughed very heartily at this story, both on ac¬
count of its telling against himself and of his being desirous
to spare the blushes of Mrs. Browdie, whose protestations
were drowned in peals of laughter from her husband. His
good nature soon put her at her ease; and although she still
denied the charge, she laughed so heartily at it that Nicholas
had the satisfaction of feeling assured that in all essential
respects it was strictly true.

“ This is the second time,” said Nicholas, that we have
ever taken a meal together, and only the third I have ever
seen you ; and yet it really seems to me as if I were among
old friends.”

“ Weel, so I say,” observed the Yorkshireman.

“ And I am sure I do,” added his young wife.

“ I have the best reason to be impressed with the feeling,”
said Nicholas, “ for if it had not been for your kindness of
heart, my good friend, when I had no right or reason to
expect it, I know not what might have become of me or what
plight I should have been in by this time.”

“ Talk aboot soom’at else, and dinnot bother,” replied
John, gruffly.

“It must be a new song to the same tune then,” said
Nicholas, smiling. “ I told you in my letter that I deeply
felt and admired your sympathy with that poor lad, whom
you released at the risk of involving yourself in trouble;
but I can never tell you how grateful he and I, and others
whom you don’t know, are to you for taking pity on
him.”

“Ecod! and I can never tell you hoo grateful soom folks

370

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

that we do know would be loikewise, if they’d knowed I had
taken pity on him.”

“Ah! ” exclaimed Mrs. Browdie, “what a state I was in,
that night ! ”

“ Did they think you had anything to do with assisting in
the escape ? ”

“Not a bit,” said John, extending his mouth from ear
to ear. “ There I lay, snoog in schoolmeasther’s bed long
efther it was dark, and nobody coom nigh the place. ‘ Weel! ’
thinks I, ‘ he’s got a pretty good start, and if he bean’t whoam
by noo, he never will be; so you may coom as quick as you
loike, and foind us reddy.’ Presently he did coom. I heered
door shut doonstairs, and him a warking oop in the daark.
‘ Slow and steddy,’ I says to myself, ‘ tak you time, sir — no
hurry.’ He cooms to the door, turns the key — turns the
key when there warn’t nothing to hoold the lock ! — and
ca’as oot, ‘ Hallo, there! ’ — ‘ Yes,’ thinks I, ‘you may do
thot agean, and not wakken anybody, sir.’ ‘ Hallo, there,’
he says, and then he stops. ‘ Thou’d betther not aggravate
me,’ says schoolmeasther, efther a little time. ‘ I’ll brak’
every boan in your boddy, Smike,’ he says, efther another
little time. Then all of soodden, he sings oot for a loight,
and when it cooms — ecod, such a hoorly-boorly ! ‘ Wa’at’s

the matter? ’ says I. ‘ He’s gane,’ says he, — stark mad wi’
vengeance. ‘Have you heard nought?’ ‘ Ees,’ says I, ‘I
heerd street door shut, no time at a’ ago. I heered a person run
doon there ’ (pointing t’other way) ‘ Help ! ’ he cries. ‘ I’ll help
you,’ says I ; and off we set — the wrong way ! Ho, ho, ho ! ”

“ Did you go far? ”

“ Far! I run him clean off his legs in quarter of an hoor.
To see old schoolmeasther wi’out his hat, skimming along over
fences and rowling along up to his knees in mud and wather,
tumbling over fences and into ditches, bawling oot like mad,
wi’ his one eye looking sharp out behind and him spattered

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 371

wi’ mud all ower, face and all ! I thot I *should ha’ dropped
doon and killed myself wi’ laughing.”

John laughed so heartily at the mere recollection that all
three burst into peals of laughter, which were renewed again
and again, until they could laugh no longer.

“ He’s a bad ’un,” said John, wiping his eyes; “a very bad
’un, is schoolmeasther.”

“ I can’t bear the sight of him, John,” said his wife.

“ Coom, thot’s tidy in you, thot is. If it wa’nt along o’
you we shouldn’t know nought aboot ’un. Thou know’d ’un
first, Tilly, didn’t thou ? ”

“ I couldn’t help knowing Fanny Squeers, John. She was
an old playmate of mine, you know.”

“ Weel, dean’t I say so, lass? It’s best to be neighbourly
and keep up old acquaintance, loike; and what I say is,
dean’t quarrel if ’ee can help it. Dinnot think so, Mr.
Nickleby ? ”

“ Certainly, and you acted upon that principle when I
met you on horseback on the road after our memorable
evening.”

“ Surely. Wa’at I say, I stick by.”

“ And that’s a fine thing to do, and manly, too. Miss
Squeers is stopping with you, you said in your note.”

“ Yes, Tilly’s bridesmaid; and a queer bridesmaid she be,
too. She wean’t be a bride in a hurry, I reckon.”

“ For shame, John,” said Mrs. Browdie.

“ The groom will be a blessed man,” said John, his eyes
twinkling at the idea. “ He’ll be in luck, he will.”

“ You see, Mr. Nickleby,” said his wife, “ that it was in
consequence of her being here that John wrote to you and
fixed tonight, because we thought that it wouldn’t be pleasant
for you to meet after what has passed.”

“ Unquestionably. You were quite right in that,” said
Nicholas, interrupting.

372

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ John fixed tonight, because she had settled that she would
go and drink tea with her father. And to make quite sure
of there being nothing amiss and of your being quite alone
with us, he settled to go out there and bring her home .”

“ That was a very good arrangement, though I am sorry
to be the occasion of so much trouble.”

“ Not the least in the world, for we have looked forward
to seeing you — John and I — with the greatest possible
pleasure. Do you know, Mr. Nickleby,” said Mrs. Browdie,
with her archest smile, “ that I really think Fanny Squeers
was very fond of you ? ”

“ I am very much obliged to her, but upon my word, I
never aspired to making any impression upon her virgin
heart.”

“ How you talk,” tittered Mrs. Browdie. “ No, but do
you know that really — seriously now, and without any
joking — I was given to understand by Fanny herself that
you had made an offer to her and that you two were going
to be engaged quite solemn and regular.”

“ Was you, ma’am — was you ? ” cried a shrill female
voice, “ was you given to understand that I — I — was going
to be engaged to an assassinating thief that shed the gore of
my pa ? Do you — do you think, ma’am — that I was very
fond of such dirt beneath my feet, as I couldn’t condescend to
touch with kitchen tongs, without blackening and crocking
myself by the contact? Do you, ma’am? Do you? Oh,
base and degrading ’Tilda! ”

With these reproaches Miss Squeers flung the door wide
open, and disclosed to the eyes of the astonished Browdies and
Nicholas, not only her own symmetrical form, arrayed in the
chaste white garments before described (a little dirtier), but
the form of her brother and father, the pair of Wackfords.

“ This is the hend, is it ? ” continued Miss Squeers, who
being excited, aspirated her h’s strongly ; “ this is the hend,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 373

is it, of all my forebearance and friendship for that double-
faced thing — that viper, that — that — mermaid? ”

Miss Squeers hesitated a long time for this last epithet, and
brought it out triumphantly at last. “ This is the hend, is
it, of all my bearing with her deceitfulness, her lowness, her
falseness, her laying herself out to catch the admiration of
vulgar minds, in a way which made me blush for my — for
my - ”

“ Gender,” suggested Mr. Squeers, regarding the spectators
with a malevolent eye; literally a malevolent eye.

“ Yes,” said Miss Squeers; “ but I thank my stars that my
ma is of the same.”

“ Hear, hear! ” remarked Mr. Squeers; “and I wish she
was here to have a scratch at this company.”

“ This is the hend, is it,” said Miss Squeers, tossing her
head, and looking contemptuously at the floor, “ of my taking
notice of that rubbishing creature, and demeaning myself to
patronise her ? ”

“ Oh, come,” rejoined Mrs. Browdie, disregarding all the
endeavours of her spouse to restrain her, and forcing herself
into a front row, “ don’t talk such nonsense as that.”

“Have I not patronised you, ma’am?” demanded Miss
Squeers.

“ No.”

“ I will not look for blushes in such a quarter,” said Miss
Squeers, haughtily, “ for that countenance is a stranger to
everything but hignominiousness and red-faced boldness.”

“I say,” interposed John Browdie, nettled by these accu¬
mulated attacks on his wife, “ dra’ it mild, dra’ it mild.”

“ You, Mr. Browdie, I pity. I have no feeling for you,
sir, but one of unliquidated pity.”

“ Oh! ” said John.

“ No,” said Miss Squeers, looking sidewise at her parent,
“ although I am a queer bridesmaid and shan’t be a bride in

374

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

a hurry, and although my husband will be in luck, I entertain
no sentiments towards you, sir, but sentiments of pity.”

Here Miss Squeers looked sideways at her father again,
who looked sideways at her, as much as to say, “ There you
had him.”

“ I know what you’ve got to go through,” said Miss Squeers,
shaking her curls violently. “ I know what a life is before
you; and if you was my bitterest and deadliest enemy, I
could wish you nothing worse.”

“ Couldn’t you wish to be married to him yourself, if that
was the case ? ”

“ Oh, ma’am, how witty you are, almost as witty, ma’am,
as you are clever. How very clever it was in you, ma’am, to
choose a time when I had gone to tea with my pa, and was
sure not to come back without being fetched! What a pity
you never thought that other people might be as clever as
yourself and spoil your plans! ”

“ You won’t vex me, child, with such airs as these.”

“ Don’t Missis me, ma’am, if you please. I’ll not bear it.
Is this the hend - ”

“ Dang it a’,” cried John Browdie, impatiently. “ Say thee
say out, Fanny, and mak’ sure it’s .the end, and dinnot ask
nobody whether it is or not.”

“ Thanking you for your advice, which was not required,
Mr. Browdie, have the goodness not to meddle with my
Christian name. Even my pity shall never make me forget
what’s due to myself, Mr. Browdie. — ’Tilda,” said Miss
Squeers, with such sudden violence that John started in his
boots, “ I renounce you. I wouldn’t,” cried Miss Squeers
in a solemn voice, “ have a child named ’Tilda, not to save
it from its grave.”

“ As for the matter o’ that,” observed John, “ it’ll be time
eneaf to think aboot neaming of it when it cooms.”

“John! ” interposed his wife, “ don’t tease her.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

375

“Oh, tease, indeed!” cried Miss Squeers, bridling up.
“Tease, indeed; He! he! Tease, too! No, don’t tease
her. Consider her feelings, pray ! ”

“ If it’s fated that listeners are never to hear any good
of themselves,” said Mrs. Browdie, “ I can’t help it, and I
am very sorry for it. But I will say, Fanny, that times out
of number I have spoken so kindly of you behind your back
that even you could have found no fault with what I said.”

“ Oh, I dare say not, ma’am,” cried Miss Squeers, with a
curtsey. “ Best thanks to you for your goodness, and begging
and praying you not to be too hard upon me another time.”

“ I don’t know,” resumed Mrs. Browdie, “ that I have
said anything very bad of you, even now. At all events, what
I did say was quite true; but if I have, I am very sorry for it,
and I beg your pardon. You have said much worse of me
scores of times, Fanny, but I have never born any malice
to you, and I hope you’ll not bear any to me.”

Miss Squeers made no more direct reply than surveying
her former friend from top to toe and elevating her nose
in the air with disdain. But some indistinct allusions to a
“ puss ” and a “ minx ” and a “ contemptible creature ”
escaped her; and this, with a severe biting of the lips, great
difficulty in swallowing, and very frequent comings and goings
of breath, seemed to imply that feelings were swelling in Miss
Squeers’s bosom too great for utterance.

While the foregoing conversation was proceeding, Master
Wackford, finding himself unnoticed, had sidled up to the
table and attacked the food with such light skirmishing as
drawing his fingers round and round the inside of the plates,
and afterwards sucking them with infinite relish ; picking the
bread and dragging the pieces over the surface of the butter;
pocketing lumps of sugar, pretending all the time to be
absorbed in thought. Finding that no interference was at¬
tempted with these* small liberties he gradually mounted

376

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

to greater, and after helping himself to a good cold collation,
was by this time deep in the pie.

Nothing of this had been unobserved by Mr. Squeers,
who, so long as the attention of the company was fixed upon
other objects, hugged himself to think that his son and heir
should be fattening at the enemy’s expense. But there being
now a temporary calm, in which the proceedings of little
Wackford could scarcely fail to be observed, he feigned to be
awrare of the circumstance for the first time and inflicted
upon the face of that young gentleman a slap that made the
very teacups ring.

“ Eating of what his father’s enemies has left ! It’s fit to
go and poison you, you unnat’ral boy.”

“ It wean’t hurt him,” said John, “ let ’un eat. I wish the
whole school was here. I’d give ’em soom’ut to stay their
unfort’nate stomachs wi’, if I spent the last penny I had! ”

Squeers scowled at him with the worst and most malicious
expression of which his face was capable and shook his fist
stealthily.

“ Coom, coom, schoolmeasther, dinnot make a fool o’ thy¬
self; for if I was to sheake mine — only once — thou’d fa’
doon wi’ the wind o’ it.”

“ It was you, was it,” returned Squeers, “ that helped off
my runaway boy ? It was you, was it ? ”

“ Me! Yes, it wa’ me. Coom, wa’at o’ that! It wa’ me.
Noo then! ”

“ You hear him say he did it, my child! ” appealing to his
daughter. “You hear him say he did it! ”

“ Did it! ” cried John. “ I’ll tell ’ee more; hear this, too.
If thou’d get another roonaway boy, I’d do it agean. If
thou’d got twonty roonaway boys, I’d do it twonty times
ower, and twonty more to thot; and I’ll tell thee more, noo
my blood is oop, that thou’t an old ra’ascal; and that it’s
weel for thou, thou be’st an old ’un, or I’d ha poonded thee

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 377

to flour when thou told an honest mun hoo’ thou flicked that
poor chap in th’ coach.”

“ An honest man ! ” cried Squeers, with a sneer.

“ Ah ! An honest man, honest in ought but ever putting
legs under seame table wi’ such as thou.”

“ Scandal ! ” said Squeers, exultingly. “ Two witnesses
to it; Wackford knows the nature of an oath, he does; we
shall have you there, sir. Rascal, eh? ” Mr. Squeers took
out his pocketbook and made a note of it. “ Very good. I
should say that was worth full twenty pound at the next
assizes, without the honesty, sir.”

“ ’Soizes ! Thou’d betther not talk to me o’ ’soizes. York¬
shire schools have been shown up at ’soizes afore noo, mun,
and it’s a ticklish soobject to revive, I can tell ye.”

Mr. Squeers shook his head in a threatening manner, looking
very white with passion and, taking his daughter’s arm
and dragging little Wackford by the hand, retreated towards
the door.

“ As for you,” said Squeers, turning round and addressing
Nicholas, who, as he had caused him to smart pretty soundly
on a former occasion, purposely abstained from taking any
part in the discussion, “ see if I ain’t down upon you before
long. You’ll go a kidnapping of boys, will you? Take
care their fathers don’t turn up, and send them back to me
to do as I like with, in spite of you.”

“ I am not afraid of that,” replied Nicholas, shrugging his
shoulders contemptuously and turning away.

“Ain’t you! ” retorted Squeers, with a diabolical look.
“ Now, then, come along.”

“ I leave such society, with my pa for hever,” said Miss
Squeers, looking contemptuously and loftily round. “ I am
defiled by breathing the air with such creatures. Poor Mr.
Browdie! He, he, he! I do pity him, that I do; he’s so
deluded! He, he, he! — Artful and designing ’Tilda! ”

378

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

With this sudden relapse into the sternest and most
majestic wrath, Miss Squeers swept from the room and,
having sustained her dignity until the last possible moment,
was heard to sob and scream and struggle in the passage.

John Browdie remained standing behind the table, looking
from his wife to Nicholas and back again, with his mouth
wide open, until his hand accidentally fell upon the tankard
of ale. He took it up and, having obscured his features
therewith for some time, drew a long breath, handed it over to
Nicholas, and rang the bell.

“ Here, waither. Look alive here. Tak’ these things
awa’, and let’s have soomat broiled for sooper — vary com¬
fortable and plenty o’ it — at ten o’clock. Bring some brandy
and some water and a pair o’ slippers — the largest pair in
the house — and be quick aboot it. Dash ma’ wig! ” said
John, rubbing his hands, “ there’s no ganging oot to neeght,
noo, to fetch anybody whoam, and ecod we’ll begin to spend
the evening in airnest ! ”

CHAPTER XXVIII

MR. NICKLEBY,” said Brother Charles one day, call¬
ing him aside and taking him kindly by the hand,
“ I — I — am anxious, my dear sir, to see that you are
properly and comfortably settled in the cottage. I wish,
too, to see your mother and sister: to know them, Mr.
Nickleby, and have an opportunity of relieving their minds
by assuring them that any trifling service we have been able
to do them is a great deal more than repaid by the zeal and
ardour you display. — Not a word, my dear sir, I beg. To¬
morrow is Sunday. I shall make bold to come out at tea
time and take the chance of finding you at home. If you are
not, you know, or the ladies should feel a delicacy in being

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

379

intruded on, and would rather not be known to me just now.
why I can come again another time; any other time would
do for me. Let it remain upon that understanding/’

There was a mighty bustle in the Nickleby home that
night and a vast quantity of preparation for the expected
visitor. If the cottage ever looked pretty, it must have
been on such a bright and sunshiny day as the next day was.
But Smike’s pride in the garden or Mrs. Nickleby’s in the
condition of the furniture was nothing to the pride with
which Nicholas looked at Kate herself; and surely the
costliest mansion in all England might have found in her
beautiful face and graceful figure its most exquisite and
peerless ornament.

About six o’clock in the afternoon Mrs. Nickleby was
thrown into a great flutter of spirits by the long-expected
knock at the door; nor was this flutter at all composed by
the audible tread of two pairs of boots in the passage, which
Mrs. Nickleby said in a breathless state, must be “ the two
Mr. Cheerybles,” as it certainly was, though not the two
Mrs. Nickleby expected. It was Mr. Charles Cheeryble
and his nephew, Mr. Frank. This young man had just re¬
turned from Germany where he had superintended a part
of the business for five years. He made a thousand apolo¬
gies for his intrusion, which Mrs. Nickleby (having tea¬
spoons enough and to spare for all) most graciously received.
Nor did the appearance of this unexpected visitor occasion
the least embarrassment (save in Kate, and that only to the
extent of a blush or two at first), for the old gentleman was
so kind and cordial, and the young gentleman imitated him
in this respect so well, that the usual stiffness and formality
of a first meeting showed no sign of appearing, and Kate
more than once detected herself in the act of wondering when
it was going to begin.

After tea there was a walk in the garden, and the evening

380

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

being very fine, they strolled out at the garden gate into
some lanes and by-roads, and sauntered up and down until
it grew quite dark. The time seemed to pass very quickly
with all the party. Kate walked, leaning upon her brother’s
arm and talking with him and Mr. Frank Cheeryble, who
was on her other side. Mrs. Nickleby and the elder gentle¬
man followed at a short distance. Smike (who, if he had
ever been an object of interest in his life, had been one that
day) accompanied them, joining sometimes one group and
sometimes the other, as Brother Charles, laying his hand upon
his shoulder, bade him walk with him, or Nicholas, looking
smilingly round, beckoned him to come and talk with the old
friend who understood him best and could win a smile into
his careworn face when none else could.

There was a quiet mirth about the little supper which
harmonized exactly with this tone of feeling and lasted until
at length the two gentlemen took their leave. There was
one circumstance in the leave-taking which occasioned a vast
deal of smiling and pleasantry; and that was Mr. Frank
Cheeryble’s offering his hand to Kate twice over, quite for¬
getting that he had bade her adieu already.

• * * *

“ Sir Mulberry Hawk gone out of town ! ” said Ralph,
slowly. “ A mistake of yours. Go back again.”

“No mistake,” returned Newman. “Not even going;
gone.”

“ Has he turned girl or baby ? ” muttered Ralph, with a
fretful gesture.

“ I don’t know, but he’s gone.”

“ And where has he gone? ” asked Ralph.

“France. Danger of another attack of erysipelas — a
worse attack — in the head. So the doctors ordered him
off. And he’s gone.”

381

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ And Lord F rederick - ? ”

“ He’s gone, too.”

“ And he carries his drubbing with him, does he ! Pockets
his bruises and sneaks off without the retaliation of a word
or seeking the smallest reparation.”

“ He’s too ill.”

“ Too hi! Why I would have had it if I were dying. In
that case I would only be the more determined to have it,
and without delay — I mean if I were he. But he’s too ill!
Poor Sir Mulberry! Too ill! ”

Uttering these words with supreme contempt and great
irritation of manner, Ralph signed hastily to Newman to
leave the room and, throwing himself into his chair, beat his
foot impatiently upon the ground.

“ There is some spell about that boy,” said Ralph, grinding
his teeth. “ Circumstances conspire to help him. Talk of
fortune’s favors! What is even money to such devil’s luck
as this ! Hawk will come back, however, and his wrath will
have lost nothing of its violence in the meanwhile. Obliged
to live in retirement — the monotony of a sick room to a
man of his habits — no life — no drink — no play — nothing
that he likes and lives by. He is not likely to forget his
obligation to the cause of all this. Few men would, but he
of all others? No, no! ”

He smiled and shook his head and, resting his chin upon his
hand, fell a-musing, and smiled again. After a time he rose
and rang the bell.

“ That Mr. Squeers, has he been here ? ”

“ He was here last night. I left him here when I went
home,” returned Newman.

“ I know that, fool, do I not ? Has he been here this
morning ? ”

“ No,” bawled Newman, in a very loud key.

“ If he comes while I am out — he is pretty sure to be

382

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

here by nine tonight — let him wait. And if there’s another
man with him, as there will be perhaps, let him wait, too.”

“ Let ’em both wait? ” said Newman.

“ Ay. Help me on with this spencer, and don’t repeat
after me like a croaking parrot.”

“ I wish I was a parrot,” said Newman, sulkily.

“ I wish you were. I’d have wrung your neck long ago,”
Ralph said as he went out.

The sky had been lowering and dark for some time, and the
commencement of a violent storm of rain finally drove him
for shelter to a tree. He was leaning against it with folded
arms, still buried in thought, when, happening to raise his
eyes, he suddenly met those of a man who, creeping round
the trunk, peered into his face with a searching look and,
stepping close up to Ralph, pronounced his name.

Astonished for the moment, Ralph fell back a couple of
paces and surveyed, from head to foot, a thin, dark, withered
man, of about his own age, with a stooping body, and a very
sinister face rendered more ill-favoured by hollow and hungry
cheeks deeply sunburnt.

The man saw the recognition was mutual and addressed him
in a hoarse*, faint tone.

“ You would hardly have known me from my voice, I
suppose, Mr. Nickleby ? ”

“ No, though there is something in that that I remember
now.”

“ There is little in me that you can call to mind as having
been there eight years ago, I dare say ? ”

“ Quite enough,” said Ralph, carelessly, and averting his
face, “ more than enough.”

“ If I had remained in doubt about you, Mr. Nickleby, this
reception and your manner would have decided me very soon.”

“ Did you expect any other ? ” asked Ralph, sharply.

“ No! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 383

“ You are right,” growled Ralph, “ and, as you feel no
surprise, need express none.”

“ Mr. Nickleby, will you hear a few words that I have to
say? ”

“ I am obliged to wait here till the rain holds a little. If
you talk, sir, I shall not put my fingers in my ears, though
your talking may have as much effect as if I did.”

“ I was once in your confidence,” the man began.

Ralph looked round and smiled involuntarily.

“ I mean as much in your confidence as you ever chose to
let anybody be.”

“Ah! ” rejoined Ralph, folding his arms, “that’s another
thing, quite another thing.”

“ Don’t let us play upon words, Mr. Nickleby, in the name
of humanity.”

“ Of what? ”

“ Of humanity,” replied the other, sternly. “ I am hungry
and in want. If the change that you must see in me after so
long an absence will not move you to pity, let the knowledge
that bread — a crust of dry hard bread — is beyond my reach
today — let that have some weight with you if nothing else
has.”

“ If this is the usual form in which you beg, you have
studied your part well; but if you will take advice from one
who knows something of the world and its ways, I should
recommend a lower tone; a little lower tone, or you stand
a fair chance of being starved in good earnest.”

As he said this, Ralph looked at him whom he addressed
with a frowning, sullen face. The very picture of a man
whom nothing could move or soften.

“ Yesterday was my first day in London,” said the old
man, glancing at his travel-stained dress and worn shoes.

“It would have been better for you, I think, if it had
been your l^gt also,” replied Ralph.

384

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I have been seeking you these two days where I thought
you were most likely to be found, and I met you here at
last when I had almost given up the hope of encountering
you, Mr. Nickleby.”

He seemed to wait for some reply, but Ralph giving him
none, he continued:

“I am a most miserable and wretched outcast, nearly
sixty years old, and as destitute and helpless as a child of
six.”

“ I am sixty years old, too, and am neither destitute nor
helpless. Work. Don’t make fine play-acting speeches
about bread, but earn it.”

“How? Where? Show me the means. Will you give
them to me ? ”

“I did once; you scarcely need ask me whether I will
again.”

“ It’s twenty years ago or more since you and I fell out.
You remember that ? I claimed a share in the profits of some
business I brought to you, and as I persisted, you arrested
me for an old advance of ten pounds, odd shillings, including
interest at fifty per cent or so.”

“ I remember something of it. What then? ”

“ That didn’t part us. I made submission, being on the
wrong side of the bolts and bars; and as you were not the
made man then that you are now, you were glad enough to
take back a clerk who wasn’t overnice and who knew some¬
thing of the trade you drove.”

“You begged and prayed, and I consented. That was
kind of me. Perhaps I did want you. I forget. I should
think I did, or you would have begged in vain. You were
useful, not too honest, not too delicate, not too nice of hand
or heart, but useful.”

“Useful, indeed! Come. You had pinched and ground
ine dow^ for some years before that, but I had served you

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 385

faithfully up to that time, in spite of all your dog’s usage.
Had I? ”

Ralph made no reply.

“ Had I?”

“ You had had your wages and had done your work. We
stood on equal ground so far and could both cry quits.”

“ Then, but not afterwards.”

“ Not afterwards, certainly, nor even then, for (as you
have just said) you owed me money, and do still.”

“That’s not all.* That’s not all. Mark that. I didn’t
forget that old sore, trust me. Partly in remembrance of
that and partly in the hope of making money some day by
the scheme, I took advantage of my position about you, and
possessed myself of a hold upon you which you would give
half of all you own to know, and never can know but through
me. I left you — long after that time, transported for some
poor trickery that came within the law, but was nothing to
what you money makers daily practise just outside its
bounds — was sent away, a convict, for seven years. I have
returned what you see me. Now, Mr. Nickleby, what help
and assistance will you give me; what bribe to speak out
plainly? My expectations are not monstrous, but I must
live, and to live I must eat and drink. Money is on your
side, and hunger and thirst are on mine. You may drive an
easy bargain.”

“ Is that all? ”

“ It depends on you, Mr. Nickleby, whether that’s all or
not.”

“Why, then, harkye, Mr. - , I don’t know by what

name I am to call you,” said Ralph.

“ By my old one, if you like.”

“Why, then, harkye, Mr. Brooker, and don’t expect to
draw another speech from me. Harkye, sir. I know you of
old for a ready scoundrel, but you never had a stout heart;

386

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

and hard work, with (maybe) chains upon those legs of
yours and shorter food than when I ‘ pinched ’ and ‘ ground ’
you, has blunted your wits, or you would not come with such
a tale as this to me. You a hold upon me ! Keep it, or pub¬
lish it to the world, if you like.”

“ I can’t do that. That wouldn’t serve me.”

“ Wouldn’t it? It will serve you as much as bringing it to
me, I promise you. To be plain with you, I am a careful man
and know my affairs thoroughly. I know the world, and
the world knows me. Whatever you gleaned, or heard, or
saw, when you served me, the world knows and magnifies
already. I am reviled or threatened every day by one man
or another, but things roll on just the same, and I don’t grow
poorer either.”

“ I neither revile nor threaten*. I can tell you of what
you have lost by my act, what I only can restore, and what,
if I die without restoring, dies with me, and never can be
regained.”

“ I tell my money pretty accurately and generally keep it
in my own custody. I look sharply after most men that I
deal with, and most of all I looked sharply after you. You
are welcome to all you have kept from me.”

“ Are those of your own name dear to you ? If they

“ They are not,” returned Ralph, exasperated at this per-
severence, and the thought of Nicholas, which the last ques¬
tion awakened. “ They are not. If you had come as a com¬
mon beggar, I might have thrown a sixpence to you in re¬
membrance of the clever knave you used to be; but since you
try to palm these stale tricks upon one you might have known
better, I’ll not part with a halfpenny — nor would I to save
you from routing. And remember this, ’scapegallows, that
if we meet again and you so much as notice me by one begging
gesture, you shall see the inside of a jail once more. There’s
my answer to your trash. Take it.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

387

With a disdainful scowl at the object of his anger, who met
his eye but uttered not a word, Ralph walked away at his
usual pace, without manifesting the slightest curiosity to see
what became of his late companion or indeed once looking
behind him.

The man remained on the same spot with his eyes fixed
upon Ralph’s retreating figure until it was lost to view,
and then drawing his arms about his chest, as if the damp
and lack of food struck coldly to him, lingered with slouch¬
ing steps by the wayside and begged of those who passed
along.

Ralph, in no wise moved by what had lately occurred,
walked deliberately on and took his way through some streets
at the west end of the town until he arrived in that one in
which stood the residence of Madame Mantalini. The name
of that lady no longer appeared on the doorplate, that of Miss
Knag being substituted in its stead; but the bonnets and
dresses were still in the first-floor windows.

“ Humph ! ” muttered Ralph, surveying the house from
top to bottom; “ these people look pretty well. They can’t
last long; but if I know of their going, in good time, I am
safe, and a fair profit too. I must keep them closely in
view, that’s all.”

He was leaving the spot when his quick ear caught the
sound of a confused noise and hubbub of voices, mingled with
a great running up and down stairs. While he was hesi¬
tating whether to knock at the door or listen at the keyhole,
a female servant of Madame Mantalini’s opened it abruptly
and bounced out, with her blue cap ribbons streaming in
the air.

“ Hallo here. Stop ! ” cried Ralph. “ What’s the matter ?
Here am I. Didn’t you hear me knock? ”

“ Oh! Mr. Nickleby, sir. Go up, for the love of gracious.
Master’s been and done it again.”

“ Done what? What d’ye mean? ”

388

NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y

“ I knew he would if he was drove to it,” cried the girl.
“ I said so all along.”

“ Come here, you silly wench,” said Ralph, catching her by
the wrist, “ and don’t carry family matters to the neighbours,
destroying the credit of the establishment. Come here,
do you hear me, girl ? ”

Without any further expostulation, he led or rather pulled
the frightened handmaid into the house and shut the door;
then bidding her walk upstairs before him, followed without
more ceremony.

Guided by the noise of a great many voices all talking
together, Ralph quickly reached the private sitting room
when he was rather amazed by the confused scene in which
he suddenly found himself.

There were present all the young lady workers, in vari¬
ous attitudes expressive of alarm and consternation. Some
were gathered round Madame Mantalini, who was in tears
upon one chair. Others were gathered round Miss Knag,
who was in opposition tears upon another; and others were
round Mr. Mantalini, who was perhaps the most striking
figure in the whole group. Mr. Mantalini’s legs were ex¬
tended at full length upon the floor, and his head and shoul¬
ders were supported by a very tall footman, who didn’t seem
to know what to do with them. Mr. Mantalini’s eyes were
closed; his face was pale; his hair was comparatively straight;
his whiskers and moustache were limp; and his teeth were
clenched. He had a little bottle in his right hand, a little
teaspoon in his left, and his hands, arms, legs, and shoulders
were all stiff and powerless. And yet Madame Mantalini
was not weeping upon the body, but was scolding violently
upon her chair; and all this amidst a clamour of tongues,
perfectly deafening, which really appeared to have driven
the unfortunate footman to the utmost verge of distraction.

“ What is the matter here? ” said Ralph, pressing forward.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

389

At this inquiry, the clamour was increased twentyfold, and
an astounding string of such shrill contradictions as “ He’s
poisoned himself ” — “ He’s dying ” — “ Send for a doctor ”
— “ Don’t ” — “ He hasn’t ” — “ He isn’t, he’s only pretend¬
ing ” — with various other cries, poured forth with bewilder¬
ing volubility, until Madame Mantalini was seen to address
herself to Ralph, when female curiosity to know what she
would say prevailed, and, as if by general consent, a dead
silence, unbroken by a single whisper, instantaneously suc¬
ceeded.

“ Mr. Nickleby,” said Madame Mantalini, “ by what chance
you came here, I don’t know.”

Here a gurgling voice was heard to ejaculate, as part of
the wanderings of a sick man, “ Demnition sweetness ! ”
But nobody heeded them except the footman, who, being
startled to hear such awful tones from between his very fin¬
gers, dropped his master’s head upon the floor with a pretty
loud crash and, then without an effort to lift it up, gazed upon
the bystanders as if he had done something rather clever.

“ I will, however,” continued Madame Mantalini, drying
her eyes, and speaking with great indignation, “ say before
you, and before everybody here, once for all, that I never
will supply that man’s extravagances and viciousness again.
I have been a dupe and a fool to him long enough. In future
he shall support himself, if he can, and then he may spend
what money he pleases, upon whom and how he pleases;
but it shall not be mine, and, therefore, you had better pause
before you trust him further.”

Thereupon Madame Mantalini, quite unmoved by some
pathetic lamentations on the part of her husband that the
apothecary had not mixed the prussic acid strong enough
and that he must take another bottle or two to finish the
work, entered into a catalog of that gentleman’s gallantries,
deceptions, extravagances, and infidelities (especially the

390 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

last), winding up with a protest against being supposed
to entertain the least remnant of regard for him and adducing,
in proof of the altered state of her affections, the circum¬
stance of his having poisoned himself no less than six times
within the last fortnight, and her not having once interfered
by word or deed to save his life.

“ And I insist on being separated and left to myself,” said
Madame Mantalini, sobbing. “ If he dares to refuse me a
separation, Ill have one in law — I can — and I hope this
will be a warning to all girls who have seen this disgraceful
exhibition.”

“ Why do you say all this before so many listeners? ” said
Ralph, in a low voice. “ You know you are not in earnest.”

“ I am in earnest,” replied Madame Mantalini, aloud, and
retreating towards Miss Knag.

“ Well, but consider,” reasoned Ralph, who had a great in¬
terest in the matter. “ It would be well to reflect. A married
woman 1 has no property.”

“ Not a solitary individual dem, my soul,” said Mr. Man¬
talini, raising himself upon his elbow.

“ I am quite aware of that,” retorted Madame Mantalini,
tossing her head, “ and I have none. The business, the stock,
this house, and everything in it, all belong to Miss Knag.”

“ That’s quite true, Madame Mantalini,” said Miss Knag,
with whom her late employer had secretly come to an amicable
understanding on this point. “ Very true indeed, Madame
Mantalini — hem — very true. And I never was more glad
in all my life that I had strength of mind to resist matrimonial
offers, no matter how advantageous, than I am when I think
of my present condition as compared with your most un¬
fortunate and most undeserved one, Madame Mantalini.”

“ Demmit! ” cried Mr. Mantalini, turning his head towards

1 The property of a married woman at this time was under the
absolute control of her husband.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 391

his wife. “ Will it not slap and pinch the envious dowager
that dares to reflect upon its own delicious ? ”

But the day of Mr. Mantalini’s blandishments had de¬
parted.

“ Miss Knag, sir,” said his wife, “ is my particular friend,”
and although Mr. Mantalini leered till his eyes seemed in
danger of never coming back to their right places again,
madame showed no signs of softening.

To do the excellent Miss Knag justice, she had been mainly
instrumental in bringing about this altered state of things;
for finding that there was no chance of the business thriving
while Mr. Mantalini had any hand in the expenditure, she
had applied herself to the investigation of some little matters
connected with that gentleman’s private character, which
she had so well imparted to Madame Mantalini as to open
her eyes. The accidental discovery by Miss Knag of some
tender correspondence, in which Madame Mantalini was
described as “ old ” and “ ordinary ” had most providentially
contributed.

However, notwithstanding her firmness, Madame Man¬
talini wept very piteously, and as she leaned upon Miss Knag
and signed towards the door, that young lady and all the
other young ladies proceeded to bear her out.

“ Nickleby,” said Mr. Mantalini in tears, “ you have been
made a witness to this demnition cruelty on the part of the
demdest enslaver and captivator that ever was, oh dem! I
forgive that woman.”

“ Forgive ! ” repeated Madame Mantalini, angrily.

“ I do forgive her, Nickleby,” said Mr. Mantalini. “ You
will blame me, the world will blame me, the women will
blame; everybody will laugh, and scoff, and smile, and grin
most demnebly. They will say, ‘ She had a blessing. She
did not know it. He was too weak; he was too good; he was
a dem’d fine fellow, but he loved too strong; he could not

392

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

bear her to be cross and call him wicked names. It was a
dem’d case. There never was a demder.’ But I forgive her.”

With this affecting speech Mr. Mantalini fell down again
very flat and lay to all appearance without sense or motion,
until all the females had left the room, when he came cau¬
tiously into a sitting posture, and confronted Ralph with
a very blank face, and the little bottle still in one hand, the
teaspoon in the other.

“ You may put away those fooleries now and live by your
wits again,” said Ralph, coolly putting on his hat.

“ Demmit, Nickleby, you’re not serious ? ”

“ I seldom joke. Good night.”

“ No, but Nickleby.”

“ I am wrong, perhaps. I hope so. You should know best.
Good night.”

Affecting not to hear his entreaties that he would stay
and advise with him, Ralph left the crestfallen Mr. Man¬
talini to his meditations and left the house quietly.

“ Oho ! Sets the wind that way so soon ? Half-knave and
half-fool, and detected in both characters. I think your
day is over, sir.”

As he said this, he made some memorandum in his pocket-
book in which Mr. Mantalini’s name figured conspicuously
and, finding by his watch that it was between nine and ten
o’clock, made, all speed home.

“ Are they here ? ” was the first question he asked of New¬
man.

Newman nodded. “ Been here half an hour.”

“ Two of them? One a sleek fat man? ”

“ Ay. In your room now.”

“ Good. Get me a coach.”

“A coach! What you — going to — eh?” stammered
Newman.

Ralph angrily repeated his orders, and Newman, who

393

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

might well have been excused for wondering (for he had
never seen Ralph in a coach in his life) departed on his
errand and presently returned with the coach.

Into it went Mr. Squeers and Ralph, and the third man
whom Newman Noggs had never seen. Newman stood
upon the door step to see them off, not troubling himself to
wonder where or upon what business they were going, until
he chanced to hear Ralph name the address whither the
coachman was to drive.

Quick as lightning and in a state of the most extreme won¬
der, Newman darted into his little office for his hat and
limped after the coach as if with the intention of getting up
behind; but in this design he was balked, for it had too much
the start of him and was soon hopelessly ahead, leaving him
gaping in the empty street. “ I don’t know, though,” said
Newman, stopping for breath, “ any good that I might have
done by going too. He would have seen me if I had. Drive
there ! What can come of this! If I had only known it
yesterday I could have told — drive there ! There’s mischief
in it. There must be.”

His reflections were interrupted by a grey-haired man of
a very remarkable, though far from prepossessing appear¬
ance, who, coming stealthily towards him, solicited relief.

Newman, still cogitating deeply, turned away; but the
man followed him and pressed him with such a tale of misery
that Newman (who might have been considered a hopeless
person to beg from and who had little enough to give)
looked into his hat for some halfpence which he usually kept
screwed up, when he had any, in a corner of his pocket
handkerchief. While he was busily untwisting the knot with
his teeth, the man said something which attracted his atten¬
tion. Whatever that something was, it led to something
else. In the end he and Newman walked away side by side
— the strange man talking earnestly and Newman listening.

394

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XXIX

S we gang awa’ fra Lunnun tomorrow neeght, and as

I dinnot know that I was e’er so happy in a’ my days,

Misther Nickleby, ding ! but I will tak’ anoother glass to our
next merry meeting ! ”

So said John Browdie, rubbing his hands with great joy¬
ousness and looking round him with a ruddy shining face.
The time was the evening to which the last chapter bore
reference ; the place was the cottage ; and the assembled com¬
pany were Nicholas, Mrs. Nickleby, Mrs. Browdie, Kate
Nickleby, and Smike. A very merry party they had been.
John Browdie declared, in the parlor after supper, at twenty
minutes before eleven o’clock p. m., that he had never been so
happy in all his born days.

“ Mr. Browdie,” said Kate, addressing his young wife, “ is
the best-humoured, the kindest, and heartiest creature I ever
saw. If I were oppressed with I don’t know how many cares,
it would make me happy only to look at him.”

“ I am very much obliged to you, I am sure, ma’am,” re¬
turned Mrs. Browdie, gratefully. “ It’s nearly eleven o’clock,
John. I am afraid we are keeping you up very late, ma’am.”

“Late! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, with a sharp thin laugh.
“This is quite early for us. We used to keep such hours!
Twelve, one, two, three o’clock was nothing to us. Balls,
dinners, card parties ! ”

Kate saw that for the ease and comfort of the visitors it
was high time to stay this flood of recollection. She said
that Mr. Browdie had half promised, early in the evening,
that he would sing a Yorkshire song and that she was most
impatient that he should redeem his promise, because she
was sure it would afford her mama more amusement and
pleasure than it was possible to express. Mrs. Nickleby,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

395

confirming her daughter, John Browdie began to roar a
meek sentiment (supposed to be uttered by a gentle swain
fast pining away with love and despair) in a voice of thunder.

At the end of the first verse there was a loud and violent
knocking at the street door; so loud and so violent, indeed,
that the ladies started as by one accord, and John Browdie
stopped.

“ It must be some mistake,” said Nicholas, carelessly. “ We
know nobody who would come here at this hour.”

Mrs. Nickleby surmised, however, that perhaps the count-
inghouse was burnt down, or perhaps “ the Mr. Cheerybles ”
had sent to take Nicholas into partnership (which certainly
seemed highly probable at that time of night), or perhaps
Mr. Linkinwater had run away with the property, or per¬
haps Miss La Creevy was taken ill, or perhaps -

But a hasty exclamation from Kate stopped her in her
conjectures, and Ralph Nickleby walked into the room.

“ Stay,” said Ralph, as Nicholas rose, and Kate, making
her way towards him, threw herself upon his arm. “ Before
that boy says a word, hear me.”

Nicholas bit his lip and shook his head in a threatening
manner, but appeared for the moment unable to articulate
a syllable. Kate clung closer to his arm, and Smike retreated
behind them. John Browdie, who had heard of Ralph,
stepped between the old man and his young friend, as if with
the intention of preventing either of them from advancing
a step further.

“ Hear me, I say,” said Ralph, “ and not him.” v

“ Say what thou’st gotten to say then, sir,” retorted John,
“ and tak’ care thou dinnot put up angry bluid which thou’dst
betther try to quiet.”

“ I should know you,” said Ralph, “ by your tongue, and
him ,” pointing to Smike, “ by his looks.”

“ Don’t speak to him,” said Nicholas, recovering his voice.

396 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I will not have it. I will not hear him. I do not know that
man. I cannot breathe the air that he corrupts. His pres¬
ence is an insult to my sister. It is shame to see him. I will
not bear it.”

“Stand! ” -cried John, laying his heavy hand upon his
chest.

“ Then let him instantly retire,” said Nicholas, struggling.
“ I am not going to lay hands upon him, but he shall with¬
draw. I will not have him here. John, John Browdie, is this
my- house, am I a child? If he stands there, cried Nicholas,
burning with fury, “ looking so calmly upon those who know
his black and dastardly heart, he’ll drive me mad.”

To all these exclamations John Browdie answered not a
word, but he retained his hold upon Nicholas and, when he
was silent again, spoke.

“ There’s more to say and hear than thou think’st for. I
tell ’ee I ha’ gotten scent o’ thot already. Wa’at be that
shadow ootside door there? Noo, schoolmeasther, show thy¬
self, mun; dinnot be sheame-feaced. Noo, auld gen’l’man,
let’s have schoolmeasther coom.”

Hearing this adjuration, Mr. Squeers, who had been lin¬
gering in the passage until such time as it should be expedient
for him to enter, was obliged to present himself in a some¬
what undignified and sneaking way; at which John Browdie
laughed with such keen and heartfelt delight that even Kate,
in all the pain, anxiety, and surprise of the scene and, though
the tears were in her eyes, felt a disposition to join him.

“Have you done enjoying yourself, sir,” said Ralph, at
length.

“ Pratty nigh for the prasant time, sir.”

“ I can wait. Take your time.”

Ralph waited until there was a perfect silence and, then
turning to Mrs. Nickleby, but directing an eager glance at
Kate, as if more anxious to watch his effect upon her, said:

397

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Now, ma’am, listen to me. I don’t imagine that you
were a party to a very fine tirade of words sent me by that
boy of yours, because I don’t believe that under his control
you have the slightest will of your own, or that your advice,
your opinion, your wants, your wishes, anything which in
nature and reason ought to weigh with him, has the slightest
influence.”

Mrs. Nickleby shook her head and sighed, as if there were
a good deal in that, certainly.

“ For this reason,” resumed Ralph, “ I address myself to
you, ma’am. For this reason, partly, and partly because I
do not wish to be disgraced by the acts of a vicious stripling
whom I was obliged to disown, and who afterwards in his
boyish majesty feigns to — ha, ha ! — to disown me, I present
myself here tonight. I have another motive in coming; a
motive of humanity. I come here,” said Ralph, looking round
with a triumphant smile, “ to restore a parent his child. Ay,
sir,” he continued, bending eagerly forward and addressing
Nicholas, as he marked the change of his countenance, “ to
restore a parent his child, his son, sir, trapped, waylaid, and
guarded at every turn by you, with the base design of robbing
him some day of any little wretched pittance of which he
might become possessed.”

“ In that you know you lie,” said Nicholas, proudly.

“ In this I know I speak the truth. I have his father
here.”

“Here! ” sneered Squeers, stepping forward. “Do you
hear that? Here! Didn’t I tell you to be careful that his
father didn’t turn up and send him back to me ? Why, his
father’s my friend. Smike’s to come back to me directly,
he is. Now, what do you say — eh ! — now — come — what
do you say to that — an’t you sorry you took so much trouble
for nothing ? An’t you ? An’t you ? ”

“ You bear upon your body certain marks I gave you,”

398 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

said Nicholas, looking quietly away, “and may talk in ac¬
knowledgment of them as much as you please. You’ll talk
a long time before you rub them out, Mr. Squeers.

The estimable gentleman last named cast a hasty look at
the table, as if he were prompted by this retort to throw a
jug or bottle at the head of Nicholas; but he was interrupted
in this design (if such design he had) by Ralph, who, touch¬
ing him on the elbow, bade him tell the father that he might
now appear and claim his son.

This being purely a labour of love, Mr. Squeers readily
complied and, leaving the room for the purpose, almost im¬
mediately returned, supporting a sleek personage with an
oily face, who, bursting from him, and giving to view the
form and face of Mr. Snawley, made straight up to Smike,
and tucking that poor fellow’s head under his arm in a most
uncouth and awkward embrace, elevated his broad-brimmed
hat at arm’s length in the air as a token of devout thanks¬
giving, exclaiming meanwhile : “ How little did I think of
this here joyful meeting when I saw him last ! Oh, how little
did I think it! ”

“ Be composed, sir,” said Ralph, with a gruff expression
of sympathy; “you have got him now.”

“Got him! Oh, haven’t I got him! Have I got him,
though?” cried Mr. Snawley, scarcely able to believe it.
“ Yes, here he is, flesh and blood.”

“ Vary little flesh,” said John Browdie.

Mr. Snawley was too much occupied by his parental feel¬
ings to notice this remark and, to assure himself more com¬
pletely of the restoration of his child, tucked his head under
his arm again, and kept it there.

“ What was it,” said Snawley, “ that made me take such
a strong interest in him when that worthy instructor of youth
brought him to my house? What was it that made me burn
all over with a wish to chastise him severely for cutting away
from his best friends, his pastors and masters? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

399

“ It was parental instinct, sir,” observed Squeers.

“ That’s what it was, sir,” rejoined Snawley; “ the elevated
feeling, the feeling of the ancient Romans and Grecians, and
of the beasts of the field and birds of the air, with the excep¬
tion of rabbits and tomcats, which sometirtfes devour their
offspring. My heart yearned towards him. I could have
— I don’t know what I couldn’t have done to him in the
anger of a father.”

“ It only shows what Natur is, sir,” said Mr. Squeers.
" She’s a rum ’un, is Natur.”

“ She is a holy thing, sir,” remarked Snawley.

“ I believe you,” added Mr. Squeers, with a moral sigh.
“ I should like to know how we should ever get on without
her. Natur,” said Mr. Squeers, solemnly, “ is more easier
conceived than described. Oh, what a blessed thing, sir, to
be in a state o’ natur ! ”

Pending this philosophical discourse, the bystanders had
been quite stupefied with amazement, while Nicholas had
looked keenly from Snawley to Squeers, and from Squeers to
Ralph, divided between his feelings of disgust, doubt, and sur¬
prise. At this juncture, Smike, escaping from his father,
fled to Nicholas and implored him in most moving terms
never to give him up, but to let him live and die beside him.

“ If you are this boy’s father,” said Nicholas, “ look at the
wreck he is, and tell me that you purpose to send him back
to that loathsome den from which I brought him.”

“ Scandal again! ” cried Squeers. “Recollect! You an’t
worth powder and shot, but I’ll be even with you one way or
another.”

“ Stop,” interposed Ralph, as Snawley was about to speak.
“ Let us cut this matter short and not bandy words here with
hair-brained profligates. This is your son, as you can prove.
And you, Mr. Squeers, you know this boy to be the same
that was with you for so many years under the name of
Smike, Do you?”

400

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
“Do I! Don’t I?”

“ Good. A very few words will be sufficient here. You
had a son by your first wife, Mr. Snawley ? ”

“ I had, and there he stands.”

“We’ll show that presently. You and your wife were
separated, and she had the boy to live with her when he was
a year old. You received a communication from her, when
you had lived apart a year or two, that the boy was dead;
and you believed it? ”

“Of course, I did! Oh, the joy of

. “ Be rational, sir. This is business, and transports inter¬
fere with it. This wife died a year and a half ago, or there¬
abouts — not more — in some obscure place, where she was
housekeeper in a family. Is that the case?

“That’s the case.”

“ Having written on her deathbed a letter of confession
to you about this very boy, which, as it was not directed
otherwise than in your name, only reached you a few days

since ? ” '

“ Just so. Correct in every particular, sir.”

“ And this confession, is to the effect that his death was
an invention of hers to wound you ; that the boy lived, but was
of weak, imperfect intellect — that she sent him by a trusty
hand to a cheap school in Yorkshire — that she had paid
for his education for some years, and then, being poor, and
going a long way off, gradually deserted him, for which she
prayed forgiveness? ”

Snawley nodded his head and wiped his eyes; the first
slightly, the last violently.

“The school was Mr. Squeers’s,” continued Ralph; “the
boy was left there in the name of Smike; every description
was fully given, dates tally exactly with Mr. Squeers’s books.
Mr. Squeers is lodging with you at this time; you have two
other boys at his school You communicated the whole dis-

401

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

covery to him. He brought you to me as the person who
had recommended to him the kidnapper of his child; and I
brought you here. Is that so ? ”

You talk like a good book, sir, that's got nothing in its
inside but what's the truth, 77 replied Snawley.

“ This is your pocketbook,77 said Ralph, producing one
from his coat. “ The certificates of your first marriage and
of the boy's birth, and your wife's two letters, and every other
paper that can support these statements are here, are they ? 77

“ Every one of 'em, sir.77

“And you don’t object to their being looked at here, so
that these people may be convinced,, and you may resume
your control over your own son without more delay. Do I
understand you ? 77

“ I couldn’t have understood myself better, sir.”

“ There, then,77 said Ralph, tossing the pocketbook upon
the table. “ Let them see them if they. like; and as those are
the original papers, I should recommend you to stand near
while they are being examined, or you may chance to lose
some.”

With these words Ralph sat down unbidden, folded his
arms, and looked for the first time at his nephew.

Nicholas darted an indignant glance at him but, com¬
manding himself as well as he could, entered upon a close
examination of the documents, at which John Browdie
assisted. There was nothing about them which could be
called in question. The certificates were regularly signed
as extracts from the parish books; the first letter had a
genuine appearance of having been written and preserved
for some years ; the handwriting of the second tallied with it
exactly.

“ Dear Nicholas,” whispered Kate, who had been looking
anxiously over his shoulder, “can this be really the case?
Is this statement true ? 77

402

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I fear it is. What say you, John? ”

John scratched his head and shook it, but said nothing
at all.

“ You will observe, ma’am,” said Ralph, addressing himself
to Mrs. Nickleby, “ that this boy, being a minor and not of
strong mind, we might have come here tonight, armed with
the powers of the law. I should have done so, ma am, un¬
questionably, but for my regard for the feelings of yourself
and your daughter.”

“ You have shown your regard for her feelings well,” said
Nicholas, drawing his sister towards him.

“ Thank you. Your praise, sir, is commendation indeed.”

“ Well,” said Squeers, “ what’s to be done ? Them hackney
coach horses will catch cold if we don’t think of moving;
there’s one of ’em a sneezing now, so that he blows the street
door right open. What’s the order of the day ? Is Master
Snawley to come along with us? ”

“ No, no, no,” said Smike, drawing back and clinging to
Nicholas. “No. Pray, no. I will not go from you with
him. No, no.”

“ This is a cruel thing,” said Snawley, looking to his friends
for support. “ Do parents bring children into the world for
this ? ”

“ Do parents bring children into the world for thot? ” said
John Browdie, bluntly, pointing, as he spoke, to Squeers.

“ Never you mind,” retorted that gentleman, tapping his
nose derisively.

“Never I mind! ” said John. “No, nor never nobody
mind, say’st thou, schoolmeasther. It’s nobody’s minding
that keeps sike men as thou afloat. Noo then, where be’st
thou coomin’ to? Dang it, dinnot coom treadin’ ower me,
mun.”

Suiting the action to the word, John Browdie just jerked his
elbow into the chest of Mr. Squeers, who was advancing upon

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

403

Smike, with so much dexterity that the schoolmaster reeled
and staggered back upon Ralph Nickleby and, being unable
to recover his balance, knocked that gentleman off his chair
and stumbled heavily upon him.

This accidental circumstance was the signal for some very
decisive proceedings. In the midst of a great noise, oc¬
casioned by the prayers and entreaties of Smike, the cries and
exclamations of the women, and the vehemence of the men,
demonstrations were made of carrying off the lost son by
violence. Squeers had actually begun to haul him out, when
Nicholas (who, until then, had been evidently undecided how
to act) took him by the collar and, shaking him so that such
teeth as he had chattered in his head, politely escorted him
to the door, and thrusting him into the passage, shut it
upon him.

“ Now,” said Nicholas, to the other two, “ have the kind¬
ness to follow your friend.”

“ I want my son,” said Snawley.

“ Your son chooses for himself. He chooses to remain here,
and he shall.”

“ You won’t give him up ? ”

“ I would not give him up against his will, to be the victim
of such brutality as that to which you would consign him,
if he were a dog or a rat.”

“ Knock that Nickleby down with a candlestick,” cried Mr.
Squeers, through the keyhole, “ and bring out my hat, some¬
body, will you, unless he wants to steal it.”

“ You, sir,” said Snawley, addressing the terrified Smike,
“ are an unnatural, ungrateful, unlQvable boy. You won’t
let me love you when I want to. Won’t you come home,
won’t you ? ”

“ No, no, no,” cried Smike, shrinking back.

“ He never loved nobody,” bawled Squeers through the
keyhole. “He never loved me; he never loved Wackford,

404

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

who is next door but one to a cherubim. How can you expect
that he’ll love his father? He’ll never love his father, he
won’t. He don’t know what it is to have a father. He don’t
understand. It an’t in him.”

Mr. Snawley looked steadfastly at his son for a full minute
and then, covering his eyes with his hand and once more rais¬
ing his hat in the air, appeared deeply occupied in deploring
his black ingratitude. Then, drawing his arm across his
eyes, he picked up Mr. Squeers’s hat and went sadly out.

“ Your romance, sir,” said Ralph, lingering for a moment,
“is destroyed, I take it. No unknown; no persecuted de¬
scendant of a man of high degree; the weak imbecile son
of a poor petty tradesman. We shall see how your sympathy
melts before plain matter of fact.”

“ You shall,” said Nicholas, motioning towards the door.

“ And trust me, sir,” added Ralph, “ that I never supposed
you would give him up tonight. Pride, obstinacy, reputa¬
tion for fine feeling were all against it. These must be brought
down, sir, lowered, crushed, as they shall be soon. The pro¬
tracted and wearing anxiety and expense of the law in its
most oppressive form, its torture from hour to hour, its
weary days and sleepless nights, with these I’ll prove you,
and break your haughty spirit, strong as you deem it now.
And when you make this house a hell, and visit these trials
upon yonder wretched object, and those who think you now
a young-fledged hero, we’ll go into old accounts between us
two and see who stands the debtor and comes out best at
last, even before the world.”

CHAPTER XXX

AFTER an anxious consideration of the painful and em¬
barrassing position in which he was placed concern¬
ing Smike, Nicholas decided that he ought to lose no time in

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

405

frankly stating it to the two brothers. Availing himself of
the first opportunity of being alone with Mr. Charles Cheery-
ble at the close of the next day, he accordingly related Smike’s
little history. He received this answer from Mr. Charles
Cheeryble.

“ I suppose you are surprised that I have listened with so
little astonishment. That is easily explained. Your uncle
has been here this morning.”

Nicholas coloured and drew back a step or two.

“ Yes,” said the old gentleman, tapping his desk emphati¬
cally, “ here in this room. He would listen neither to reason,
feeling, nor justice. But Brother Ned was hard upon him.
Brother Ned, sir, might have melted a paving stone.”

“ He came to - ” said Nicholas.

“ To complain of you, to poison our ears with calumnies
and falsehoods; but he came on a fruitless errand and went
away with some wholesome truths in his ear besides. Brother
Ned, my dear Mr. Nickleby — Brother Ned is a perfect lion.
So is Tim Linkinwater; Tim is quite a lion. We had Tim in
to face him at first, and Tim was at him before you could
say ‘ Jock Robinson.’ ”

“ How can I ever thank you for all the deep obligations you
impose upon me every day? ” said Nicholas.

“ By keeping silent upon the subject. You shall be righted.
At least you shall not be wronged. Nobody belonging to you
shall be wronged. They shall not hurt a hair of your head,
or the boy’s head, or your mother’s head, or your sister’s
head. I have said it, Brother Ned has said it, Tim Linkin¬
water has said it. We have all said it, and we’ll all do it.
I have seen the father — if he is the father — and I suppose
he must be. He is a barbarian and a hypocrite, Mr. Nickleby.
I told him, ‘ You are a barbarian, sir.’ I did. And I’m glad
of it, I am very glad I told him he was a barbarian, very glad
indeed.”

406

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

By this time Brother Charles was in such a very warm
state of indignation that Nicholas thought he might venture
to put in a word; but the moment he tried to do so, Mr.
Cheeryble laid his hand softly upon his arm and pointed to
a chair.

“ The subject is at an end for the present,” said the old
gentleman, wiping his face. “ Don’t revive it by a single
word. I am going to speak upon another subject, a confi¬
dential subject, Mr. Nickleby. We must be cool again, we
must be cool.”

After two or three turns across the room, he resumed his
seat and, drawing his chair nearer to that on which Nicholas
was seated, said:

“ I am about to employ you on a confidential and delicate
mission.”

“ You might employ many a more able messenger,” said
Nicholas, “ but a more trustworthy or zealous one, I may
be bold to say, you could not find.”

“ Of that I am well assured. You will give me credit for
thinking so when I tell you, that the object of this mission is
a young lady.”

“ A young lady ! ” cried Nicholas, quite trembling for the
moment with his eagerness to hear more.

“ A very beautiful young lady,” said Mr. Cheeryble,
gravely.

“ Please go on, sir,” returned Nicholas.

“ I am thinking how to do so,” said Brother Charles, sadly,
as it seemed to his young friend, and with an expression allied
to pain. “ You accidentally saw a young lady in this room
one morning in a fainting spell. Do you remember? Per¬
haps you have forgotten.”

“Oh, no,” replied Nicholas hurriedly. “I — I — remem¬
ber it very well indeed.”

“ She is the lady I speak of,” said Brother Charles. “ She

407

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

is the daughter of a lady who, when she was a beautiful
girl herself and I was very many years younger, I — it seems
a strange word for me to utter now, — I loved very dearly.
You will smile, perhaps, to hear a grey headed man talk about
such things. You will not offend me; for when I was as
young as you, I suppose I should have done the same.”

“ I have no such inclination, indeed,” said Nicholas.

“My dear Brother Ned was to have married her sister,
but she died. She is dead, too, now and has been for many
years. She married her choice, and I wish I could add that
her after-life was as happy as, God knows, I ever prayed it
might be ! ”

A short silence intervened, which Nicholas made no effort
to break.

“ It will be enough to say that she was not happy, that they
fell into complicated distresses and difficulties. Twelve
months before her death she came to me to appeal to my old
friendship. She was sadly changed, sadly altered, broken-
spirited from suffering and ill-usage, and almost broken¬
hearted. Her husband readily availed himself of the money
which, to give her but one hour’s peace of mind, I would have
poured out as freely as water. In those times this young
lady was a mere child. I never saw her again until that
morning when you saw her also. You saw also her faithful
servant girl who has stayed with her even when they had no
money. The young lady told us that her father was in some
secret place to avoid his creditors, reduced, between sick¬
ness and poverty, to the verge of death, and she — who should
have blessed a better father, was steadily braving privation,
degradation, and everything most terrible to such a young and
delicate creature’s heart for the purpose of supporting him.”

“ Cannot she be persuaded to - ” Nicholas hesitated.

“To leave him?” said Brother Charles. “Who could
entreat a child to desert her parent ? Such entreaties, limited

408

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

to her seeing him occasionally, have been urged upon her —
not by me — but always with the same result.”

“ Is he kind to her ? Does he return her affection ? ” asked
Nicholas.

“ True kindness is not in his nature. Such kindness as
he knows, he regards her with, I believe. The mother was
a gentle, loving, confiding creature ; and although he wounded
her from their marriage until her death as cruelly as ever man
did, she never ceased to love' him. She commended him on
her deathbed to her child’s care. Her child has never for¬
gotten it, and never will.”

“ Have you no influence over him? ” asked Nicholas.

“ I, my dear sir? The last man in the world. Such is
his jealousy and hatred of me that, if he knew his daughter
had opened her heart to me, he would render her life miserable
with his reproaches, although, if he knew that every penny she
had came from me, he would not give up one personal desire
to avoid taking it.”

“ An unnatural scoundrel ! ” said Nicholas, indignantly.

“ We will use no harsh terms,” said Brother Charles, in a
gentle voice, “ but will accommodate ourselves to the cir¬
cumstance in which this young lady is placed. Such assist¬
ance as I have prevailed upon her to accept, I have been
obliged, at her own request, to dole out in the smallest por¬
tions, lest he, finding how easily money was procured, should
squander it more lightly. She has come to and fro, to and
fro, secretly and by night, to take even this; and I cannot
bear that things should go on in this way, Mr. Nickleby, I
really cannot bear it.”

Then it came out by little and little that the twins had
been revolving in their good old heads manifold plans and
schemes for helping this young lady in the most delicate and
considerate way, and so that her father should not suspect the
source whence the aid was derived; how they had at last

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

409

come to the conclusion that the best course would be a pre¬
tence of purchasing her little drawings and ornamental work
at a high price and keeping up a constant demand for the
same. For the furtherance of which end and object it was
necessary that somebody should represent the dealer in such
commodities, and after great deliberation they had pitched
upon Nicholas to support this character.

“ The young lady, sir,” said Nicholas, who felt so em¬
barrassed that he had difficulty in saying anything at all,
“ does — is — is she a party to this innocent deceit ? ”

“ Yes, yes; at least she knows you come from us; she does
not know, however, but that we shall dispose of these little
productions which you’ll purchase from time to time; and
perhaps if you did it very well (that is, very well indeed),
perhaps she might be brought to believe — that we made a
profit of them. Eh? Eh?”

* * *

To the row of houses indicated to him by Mr. Charles
Cheeryble, Nicholas directed his steps. Opening the rickety
gate which, dangling on its broken hinges, half-admitted and
half-repulsed the visitor, Nicholas knocked at the street
door with a faltering hand.

It was, in truth, a shabby house outside, with very dim
parlour windows and a very small show of blinds. Neither,
when the door was opened, did the inside appear to belie the
outward promise. There was faded carpeting on the stairs
and faded oil-cloth in the passage. Nicholas had ample time
to make these observations while the little boy, who went
on errands for the lodgers, clattered down the kitchen stairs
and was heard to scream, as in some remote cellar, for Miss
Bray’s servant. She, presently appearing and requesting
him to follow her, caused him to evince greater symptoms of
nervousness and disorder than so natural a consequence of

410 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

his having inquired for that young lady would seem calculated
to occasion.

Upstairs he went, however. Into a front room he was
shown, and there, seated at a little table by the window, on
which were drawing materials with which she was occupied,
sat the beautiful girl who had so engrossed his thoughts from
the time when he had seen her in the employment office.

But how the graces and elegances which she had dispersed
about the poorly furnished room went to the heart of
Nicholas! Flowers, plants, birds, the harp, the old piano,
whose notes had sounded so much sweeter in bygone times;
how many struggles had it cost her to keep these two last
links of that broken chain which bound her yet to home!

A sick man propped up with pillows in an easy chair, mov¬
ing restlessly and impatiently in his seat, attracted atten¬
tion. He was scarce fifty, perhaps, but so emaciated as to
appear much older. His features presented the remains
of a handsome countenance, but one in which the embers
of strong and impetuous passions were traced. His looks
were very haggard, and his limbs and body literally worn
to the bone; but there was something of the old fire in the
large sunken eye, and it seemed to kindle afresh as he struck
a thick stick, with which he seemed to have supported himself
in his seat, impatiently on the floor twice or thrice, and called
his daughter by her name.

“ Madeline, who is this ? What does anybody want here ?
Who told a stranger we could be seen ? What is it ? ”

“ I believe - ” the young lady began, as she inclined

her head with an air of some confusion, in reply to the
salutation of Nicholas. «

“ You always believe,” returned her father petulantly.
“ What is it? ”

By this time Nicholas had recovered sufficient presence of
mind to speak for himself, so he said that he had called about

Into a front room he was shown

412

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

a pair of hand screens and some painted velvet for an otto¬
man. He had also to pay for the two drawings. With many
thanks, and advancing to the little table, he laid upon it a bank
note, folded in an envelope and sealed.

“ See that the money is right, Madeline. Open the paper,
my dear.”

“ It’s quite right, papa, I’m sure.”

“ Here! ” said Mr. Bray, putting out his hand, and opening
and shutting his bony fingers with irritable impatience.
“ Let me see. What are you talking about, Madeline?
You’re sure? How can you be sure of any such thing?
Five pounds — well, is that right ? ”

“ Quite right,” said Madeline, bending over him. She was
so busily employed in arranging the pillows that Nicholas
could not see her face, but as she stooped he thought he saw
a tear fall.

“ Ring the bell, ring the bell,” said the sick man, with the
same nervous eagerness and motioning towards it with such
a quivering hand that the bank notes rustled in the air. “ Tell
her to get it changed, to get me a newspaper, to buy me some
grapes, another bottle of the wine that I had last week —
and — I forget half I want now, but she can go out again.
Let her get those first. Now Madeline, my love, quick, quick,
quick ! Good God, how slow you are ! ”

“ He remembers nothing that she wants ! ” thought Nicho¬
las. Perhaps something of what he thought was expressed in
his countenance, for the sick man, turning towards him with
great asperity, demanded to know if he waited for a receipt.

“ It is no matter at all,” said Nicholas.

“ No matter! What do you mean, sir ? No matter! Do
you think you bring your paltry money here as a favour or
as a gift, or as a matter of business, and in return for value
received? Because you can’t appreciate the time and taste
which are bestowed upon the goods you deal in, do you

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

413 1

‘think you give your money away? Do you know that you
are talking to a gentleman, sir, who at one time could have
bought up fifty such men as you and all you have? What
do you mean ? ”

“ I merely mean that, as I shall have many dealings with
this lady, if she will kindly allow me,, I will not trouble her
with such forms,” said Nicholas.

“ Then I mean, if you please, that we’ll have as many forms
as we can. My daughter requires no kindness from you or
anybody else. Have the goodness to confine your dealings
strictly to trade and business, and not to travel beyond it.
Every petty tradesman is to begin to pity her now, is he?
Upon my soul! Very pretty; Madeline, my dear, give him
a receipt; and mind you always do so.”

While she was pretending to write it, the invalid, who
appeared at times to suffer great bodily pain, sank back in
his chair and moaned out a feeble complaint that the girl
had been gone an hour and that everybody conspired to
goad him.

“ When shall I call again ? ” said Nicholas, as he took the
piece of paper.

This was addressed to the daughter, but the father an¬
swered immediately.

“ When you’re requested to call, sir, and not before. Don’t
worry and persecute. Madeline, my dear, when is this person
to call again ? ”

“ Oh, not for a long time, not for three or four weeks; it
is not necessary, indeed; I can do without,” said the young
lady, with great eagerness.

“ Why, how are we to do without ? ” urged her father, not
speaking above his breath. “ Three or four weeks, Madeline !
Three or four weeks ! ”

“ Then sooner, sooner, if you please,” said the young lady,
turning to Nicholas.

414

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Three or four weeks ! ” muttered the father. “ Madeline,
what on earth — do nothing for three or four weeks ! ”

“ It is a long time, ma’am/’ said Nicholas.

“You think so, do you?” retorted the father, angrily.
“ If I chose to beg and stoop to ask assistance from people I
despise, three or four months would not be a long time; three
or four years would not be a long time. Understand, sir,
that is if I chose to be dependent; but as I don’t, you may
call in a week.”

Nicholas bowed low to the young lady and retired, ponder¬
ing upon Mr. Bray’s ideas of independence. He heard a
light footstep above him as he descended the stairs. Look¬
ing round, he saw that the young lady was standing there,
and glancing timidly towards him, seemed to hesitate whether
she should call him back or no. The best way of settling
the question was to turn back at once, which Nicholas did.

“ I don’t know whether I do right in asking you,” said
Madeline Bray, hurriedly, “ but please, please, do not mention
to my poor mother’s dear friends what has passed here today.
He has suffered much and is worse this morning. I beg you
as a favour to myself.”

“ You have but to hint a wish,” returned Nicholas, fer¬
vently, “ and I would hazard my life to gratify it.”

“ You speak hastily, sir.”

“ Truly and sincerely,” rejoined Nicholas, his lips trembling
as he formed the words, “ if ever man spoke truly yet. I am
not skilled in disguising my feelings, and if I were, I could
not hide my heart from you. As I know your history and
feel as men and angels must who hear and see such things,
I do entreat you to believe that I would die to serve you.”

The young lady turned away her head and was plainly
weeping.

“ Forgive me,” said Nicholas, with respectful earnestness,
“ if I seem to say too much, or to presume upon the confidence

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

415

which has been entrusted to me. But I could not leave you
as if my interest and sympathy expired with the commission
of the day. I am your faithful servant, humbly devoted to
you from this hour, devoted in strict truth and honour to him
who sent me here. If I meant more or less than this, I
should be unworthy his regard, and false to the nature that
prompts the honest words I utter.”

She waved her hand, entreating him to be gone, but
answered not a word. Nicholas could say no more, and
silently withdrew. And thus ended his first interview with
Madeline Bray.

CHAPTER XXXI

IT was with a sad and heavy heart that Nicholas retraced
his steps to the countinghouse of Cheery ble Brothers.
Whatever the pleasant visions which had sprung up in his
mind round the fair image of Madeline Bray, they were
now dispelled, and not a vestige of their gaiety and bright¬
ness remained.

“ I will keep my word as I have pledged it to her. This
is no common trust that I have to discharge, and I will
perform the duty scrupulously and strictly. My secret feel¬
ings deserve no consideration in such a case as this, and
they shall have none.”

While Nicholas occupied his leisure hours with thoughts
of Madeline Bray, and (in execution of the commissions
which Brother Charles had imposed upon him in her behalf)
saw her again and again, and each time with greater danger
to his peace of mind, Mrs. Nickleby and Kate lived in peace
and quiet. They were agitated by no other cares than those
which were connected with certain proceedings taken by
Mr. Snawley for the recovery of his son and their anxiety

416

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

concerning the health of Smike, which seemed to be failing;
this occasioned both them and Nicholas considerable un¬
easiness and alarm.

It was no complaint or murmur on the part of the poor
fellow himself that disturbed them. Ever eager to be em¬
ployed in such slight services as he could render, and always
anxious to repay his benefactors with cheerful and happy
looks, less friendly eyes might have seen in him no cause for
any misgiving. But there were times, and often, too, when
the sunken eye -was too bright, the hollow cheek too flushed,
the breath too heavy in its course, the frame too feeble and
exhausted, to escape their notice.

There is a dread disease which prepares its victim gradu¬
ally for death; which refines it of its grosser aspect, and
throws around familiar looks unearthly indications of the
coming change ; a dread disease, in which the struggle between
soul and body is so gradual, quiet, and solemn that the
mortal part wastes away slowly but surely day by day.

It was with some faint reference in his own mind to this
disorder, though he would by no means admit it even to
himself, that Nicholas had already carried his faithful com¬
panion to a physician of great repute. There was no cause
for immediate alarm, the doctor said. There were no present
symptoms which could be deemed conclusive. The con¬
stitution had been greatly tried and injured in childhood,
but still it might not be fatal — and that was all.

He seemed -to grow no worse; and as it was not difficult
to find a reason for these symptoms of illness in the shock
and agitation he had recently undergone, Nicholas comforted
himself with the hope that his poor friend would soon recover.
This hope his mother and sister shared with him; and as
the object of their joint solicitude seemed to have no uneasi¬
ness or despondency for himself, but each day answered with
a quiet smile that he felt better than he had upon the day

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

417

before, their fears abated, and the general happiness was by
degrees restored.

If the Brothers Cheeryble, as they found Nicholas worthy
of trust and confidence, bestowed upon him every day some
new and substantial mark of kindness, they were not less
mindful of those who depended on him. Various little
presents to Mrs. Nickleby, always of the very things they
most required, tended in no slight degree to the improve¬
ment and embellishment of the cottage. Kate’s little store
of trinkets became quite dazzling; and for company! If
Brother Charles and Brother Ned failed to look in for at
least a few minutes every Sunday or one evening in the week,
there was Mr. Tim Linkinwater (who had never made half
a dozen other acquaintances in all his life and who took such
delight in his new friends as no words can express) constantly
coming and going in his evening walks, and stopping to rest,
while Mr. Frank Cheeryble happened, by some strange con¬
junction of circumstances, to be passing the door on some
business or other at least three nights in the week.

“ He is the most attentive young man I ever saw, Kate,”
said Mrs. Nickleby to her daughter one evening, when this
last-named gentleman had been the subject of the worthy
lady’s praise, for some time, and Kate had sat perfectly
silent.

“Attentive, mama! ”

“ Bless my heart, Kate, what a colour you have got !
Why, you’re quite flushed! ”

“ Oh, mama, what strange things you fancy ! ”

“It wasn’t fancy, Kate, my dear, I’m certain of that;
however, it’s gone now at any rate, so it doesn’t matter
whether it was there or not. What was it we were talking
about? Oh, Mr. Frank. I never saw such attention in my
life, never.”

“ Surely you are not serious.”

418

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Not serious! Why shouldn’t I be serious? I’m sure
I never was more serious. I will say that his politeness and
attention to me is one of the most becoming, gratifying,
pleasant things I have seen for a very long time. You don’t
often meet with such behaviour in young men, and it strikes
one more when one does meet with it.”

“ Oh, attention to you, mama,” rejoined Kate quickly,
“ oh yes.”

“ Dear me, Kate, what an extraordinary girl you are !
Was it likely I should be talking of his attention to anybody
else ? ”

Before Kate had returned any reply, a queer little double
knock announced that Miss La Creevy had called to see
them.

“ I met that dear old soul, Mr. Linkinwater,” she said.

“ Taking his evening walk and coming on to rest here
before he turns back to the City, I’ll be bound! ” said Mrs.
Nickleby.

“ I should think he was,” returned Miss La Creevy, “ espe¬
cially as young Mr. Cheeryble was with him.”

“ Surely that is no reason why Mr. Linkinwater should be
coming here,” said Kate.

“ Why I think it is, my dear,” said Miss La Creevy. “ For
a young man, Mr. Frank is not a very great walker; and I
observe that he generally falls tired and requires a good long
rest when he has come as far as this. But where is my
friend ? ” said the little woman, looking about, after having
glanced slyly at Kate. “ He has not been run away with
again, has he ? ”

“ Ah! Where is Mr. Smike? ” said Mrs. Nickleby. “ He
was here this instant.”

Upon further inquiry, it turned out, to the good lady’s
unbounded astonishment, that Smike had that moment
gone upstairs to bed.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

419

“ Well, now,” said Mrs. Nickleby, “ he is the strangest
creature! Last Tuesday — was it Tuesday? Yes, to be
sure it was; you recollect, Kate, my dear, the very last time
young Mr. Cheeryble was here — last Tuesday night he
went off in just the same strange way at the very moment
that knock came to the door. It cannot be that he don’t like
company, because he is always fond of people who are fond
of Nicholas, and I am sure young Mr. Cheeryble is.”

Any further reflections were cut short by the arrival of
Tim Linkinwater and Mr. Frank Cheeryble, in the hurry
of receiving whom, Mrs. Nickleby speedily lost sight of
everything else.

“ I am so sorry Nicholas is not at home,” said Mrs.
Nickleby. “ Kate, my dear, you must be both Nicholas and
yourself.”

“ Miss Nickleby need be but herself,” said Frank.

“ Then at all events she shall press you to stay,” returned
Mrs. Nickleby. “ Mr. Linkinwater says ten minutes, but
I cannot let you go so soon; Nicholas would be very much
vexed, I am sure. Kate, my dear! ”

In obedience to a great number of nods and winks and
frowns of extra significance, Kate added her entreaties that
the visitors would remain.

Nicholas did not come home, nor did Smike reappear; but
neither circumstance had any great effect upon the little
party, who were all in the best humour possible. Indeed,
there sprang up quite a flirtation between Miss La Creevy
and Tim Linkinwater, who said a thousand jocose and face¬
tious things and became, by degrees, quite gallant, not to say
tender. Little Miss La Creevy, on her part, was in high
spirits, and rallied Tim on having remained a bachelor all his
life with so much success that Tim was actually induced to de¬
clare that, if he could get anybody to have him, he didn’t
know but what he might change his condition even yet.

420

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

This was done and said with a comical mixture of jest and
earnest and, leading to a great amount of laughter, made
them very merry indeed.

Kate was commonly the life and soul of the conversation
at home; but she was more silent than usual upon this
occasion (perhaps because Tim and Miss La Creevy en¬
grossed so much of it) and, keeping aloof from the talkers,
sat at the window watching the shadows of the evening
closing in and enjoying the quiet beauty of the night, which
seemed to have similar attractions for Frank, who first lin¬
gered near and then sat down beside her. No doubt, there
are a great many things to be said appropriate to a summer
evening, and no doubt they are best said in a low voice, as
being most suitable to the peace and serenity of the hour.
Neither was there the slightest reason why Mrs. Nickleby
should have expressed surprise when, candles being at length
brought in, Kate’s bright eyes were unable to bear the light
which obliged her to avert her face.

The good lady’s surprise, however, did not end here. It
was greatly increased when it was discovered that Kate had
not the least appetite for supper — a discovery so alarming
that there is no knowing in what unaccountable efforts of
oratory Mrs. Nickleby’s apprehensions might have been
vented if the general attention had not been attracted at
the moment by a very strange and uncommon noise, pro¬
ceeding, as the pale and trembling servant girl affirmed,
and as everybody’s sense of hearing seemed to affirm also,
“ right down ” the chimney of the adjoining room.

It did not seem possible, but the noise did come from the
chimney in the next room. It was a strange compound of
shuffling, sliding, rumbling, and struggling sounds, all muffled
by the chimney. Frank Cheeryble caught up a candle, and
Tim Linkinwater the tongs, and they would have very
quickly ascertained the cause of this disturbance if Mrs.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

421

Nickleby had not been taken very faint and declined being
left behind on any account. So they all proceeded to the
troubled chamber in a body, excepting only Miss La Creevy,
who, as the servant girl volunteered a confession of having
been subject to fits in her infancy, remained with her to give
the alarm and apply restoratives, in case of extremity.

Advancing to the door of the mysterious apartment, they
were greatly surprised to hear a human voice, chanting with
a highly elaborated expression of melancholy and in tones of
suffocation which a human voice might have produced
from under five or six feather beds, the once popular air of
“ Has She Then Failed in Her Truth, the Beautiful Maid I
Adore ! ” On bursting into the room, they were more greatly
astonished to find that these romantic sounds certainly pro¬
ceeded from the throat of some man up the chimney, of whom
nothing was visible but a pair of legs, which were dangling
above the grate, apparently feeling, with extreme anxiety,
for the top bar whereon to effect a landing.

A sight so unusual and unbusinesslike as this completely
paralysed Tim Linkinwater, ^vho, after one or two gentle
pinches at the stranger’s ankles with the tongs, which were
productive of no effect, stood clapping the tongs together,
as if he were sharpening them for another assault, and did
nothing else.

“ This must be some drunken fellow,” said Frank. “ No
thief would announce his presence in such a manner.”

As he said this with great indignation, he raised the candle
to obtain a better view of the legs and was darting forward
to pull them down with very little ceremony when Mrs.
Nickleby, clasping her hands, uttered a sharp sound, some¬
thing between a scream and an exclamation, and demanded
to know whether the mysterious limbs were not clad in short
knee breeches and grey worsted stocking, or whether her eyes
had deceived her?

422

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Yes,” cried Frank, looking a little closer. “ Short knee
breeches, certainly, and — and — rough grey stocking, too.
Do you know him, ma’am? ”

“ Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, sitting down in a
chair with that sort of desperate resignation which seemed to
imply that now matters had come to a crisis and all disguise
was useless, “ you will have the goodness, my love, to explain
how this matter stands. I have given him no encouragement
— none whatever — not the least in the world. You know
that, my dear, perfectly well. He was very respectful,
exceedingly respectful, when he declared, as you were a
witness; still at the same time, if I am to be persecuted in
this way, if vegetable what’s-his-names and all kinds of
garden stuff are to strew my path out of doors, and gentle¬
men are to come choking up our chimneys at home, I really
don’t know — upon my word I do not know — what is to
become of me. It’s a very hard case — harder than anything
I was ever exposed to, and a great deal more embarrassing.
I would rather, Kate, my dear,” said Mrs. Nickleby, with
great solemnity, and an effusion of tears, “ I would rather, I
declare, have been a pig-faced lady than be exposed to such
a life as this! ”

Frank Cheeryble and Tim Linkinwater looked, in astonish¬
ment, first at each other and then.at Kate, who felt that some
explanation was necessary, but who, between her terror at
the apparition of the legs, her fear lest their owner should
be smothered, and her anxiety to give the least ridiculous
solution of the mystery that it was capable of bearing, was
quite unable to utter a single word.

“ He gives me great pain,” continued Mrs. Nickleby,
drying her eyes, “ great pain, but don’t hurt a hair of his
head, I beg. On no account hurt a hair of his head.”

It would not, under existing circumstances, have been quite
so easy to hurt a hair of the gentleman’s head as Mrs. Nickleby

V

\lmmfiminimlllillHHU

■II m m. I mill II liiimiulm

|,,O I .HI • * t 1 'll

Mimv/ n > » r #■

\9* 1 //;'%,%'» » / # ,y • * * » ♦#/> 1 * *> •• »

Ksusi • #//>• ' * • *.yv V V, v

"jmk

\Mh,

Nothing was visible but a pair of legs.

424 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

seemed to imagine, inasmuch as that part of his person was
some feet up the chimney, which was by no means a wide
one. But as all this time he had never left off singing about
the bankruptcy of the beautiful maid in respect of truth, and
now began not only to croak very feebly, but to kick with
great violence as if respiration became a task of difficulty,
Frank Cheeryble, without further hesitation, pulled at the
legs with such force as to bring the man floundering into the
room with greater precipitation than he had quite calculated
upon.

“ Oh ! yes, yes,” said Kate, when the whole figure of this
singular visitor appeared in this abrupt manner. “ I know
who it is. Please don’t be rough with him. Is he hurt?
I hope not. Oh, please see if he is hurt.”

“ He is not, I assure you,” replied Frank, handling the
object of his surprise, after this appeal, with sudden tender¬
ness and respect. “ He is not hurt in the least.”

“ Don’t let him come any nearer,” said Kate, retiring as
far as she could.

“ No, no, he shall not,” rejoined Frank. “ You see I have
him secure here. But may I ask you what this means, and
whether you expected this old gentleman ? ”

“ Oh, no, of course not ; but he — mama does not think
so, I believe — but he is an insane gentleman who has
escaped from the next house, and must have found an
opportunity of secreting himself here.”

“ Kate,” interposed Mrs. Nickleby, with severe dignity,
“ I am surprised at you.”

“ Dear mama.”

“ I am surprised at you, upon my word, Kate, I am quite
astonished that you should join the persecutors of this un¬
fortunate gentleman, when you know very wTell that they
have the basest designs upon his property and that that is
the whole secret of it. It would be much kinder of you,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

425

Kate, to ask Mr. Linkinwater or Mr. Cheeryble to interfere
in his behalf and see him righted. You ought not to allow
your feelings to influence you; it’s not right, very far from
it. What should my feelings be, do you suppose? If any¬
body ought to be indignant, who is it ? I, of course, and very
properly so. Still, at the same time, I wouldn’t commit such
an injustice for the world. No,” continued Mrs. Nickleby,
drawing herself up and looking another way with a kind of
bashful stateliness ; “ this gentleman will understand me
when I tell him that I repeat the answer I gave him the other
day; that I always will repeat it, though I do believe him to
be sincere when I find him placing himself in such dreadful
situations on my account; and that I request him to have
the goodness to go away directly, or it will be impossible to
keep his behaviour a secret from my son Nicholas. I am
obliged to him, very much obliged to him, but I cannot listen
to his addresses for a moment. It’s quite impossible.”

While this address was in course of delivery, the old gentle¬
man, with his nose and cheeks embellished with large patches
of soot, sat upon the ground with his arms folded, eyeing the
spectators in profound silence and with a very majestic de¬
meanour. He did not appear to take the smallest notice of
what Mrs. Nickleby said, but when she ceased to speak, he
honoured her with a long stare and inquired if she had quite;
finished ?

“I have nothing more to say,” replied that lady, modestly.
“I really cannot say anything more.”

“ Very good,” said the old gentleman, after a short pause,
“ then bring in the bottled lightning, a clean tumbler, and a
corkscrew.”

Nobody executing this order, the old gentleman, after a
short pause, raised his voice again and demanded a thunder
sandwich. This article not being forthcoming either, he
requested to be served with a fricassee of boot tops, and

426

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

goldfish sauce, and then laughing heartily, gratified his
hearers with a very long, very loud, and most melodious
bellow.

But still Mrs. Nickleby, in reply to the significant looks
all about her, shook her head as though to assure them that
she saw nothing whatever in all this, unless, indeed, it were
a slight degree of eccentricity. She might have remained
impressed with these opinions down to the latest moment of
her life, but for a slight train of circumstances which, trivial
as they were, altered the whole complexion of the case.

It happened that Miss La Creevy, finding her patient in
no very threatening condition and being strongly impelled
by curiosity to see what was going forward, bustled into the
room while the old gentleman was in the very act of bellow¬
ing. It happened, too, that the instant the old gentleman
saw her, he stopped short, skipped suddenly on his feet, and
fell to kissing his hand violently — a change of demeanour
which almost terrified the little portrait painter out of her
senses and caused her to retreat behind Tim Linkinwater
with the utmost expedition.

“ Aha ! ” cried the old gentleman, folding his hands and
squeezing them with great force against each other. “ I
see her now, I see her now! My love, my life, my bride,
my peerless beauty. She is come at last — at last — and all
is gas and gaiters! ”

Mrs. Nickleby looked rather disconcerted for a moment,
but immediately recovering, nodded to Miss La Creevy and
the other spectators several times, and frowned, and smiled
gravely; giving them to understand that she saw where the
mistake was and would set it all to rights in a minute or
two.

“She is come! ” said the old gentleman, laying his hand
upon his heart. “ Cormoran and Blunderbore ! She is come !
All the wealth I have is hers if she will take me for her slave.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

427

Where are grace, beauty, and blandishments like those?
In the Empress of Madagascar? No. In the Queen of
Diamonds? No. In Mrs. Rowland, who every morning
bathes in Kalydor for nothing? No. Melt all these down
into one, with the three Graces, the nine Muses, and four¬
teen biscuit bakers’ daughters from Oxford Street, and make
a woman half as lovely. Pho ! I defy you.”

After uttering this rhapsody, the old gentleman snapped
his fingers twenty or thirty times, and then subsided into an
ecstatic contemplation of Miss La Creevy’s charms. This
affording Mrs. Nickleby a favourable opportunity of expla¬
nation, she went about it straight.

“ I am sure,” said the worthy lady, with a prefatory cough,
“ that it’s a great relief, under such trying circumstances as
these, to have anybody else mistaken for me — a very great
relief; and it’s a circumstance that never occurred before,
although I have several times been mistaken for my daughter
Kate. I have no doubt the people were very foolish, and
perhaps ought to have known better; but still they did take
me for her, and of course that was no fault of mine, and it
would be very hard indeed if I was to be made responsible
for it. However, in this instance, of course, I must feel
that I should do exceedingly wrong if I suffered anybody —
especially anybody that I am under great obligations to — to
be made uncomfortable on my account. And therefore I
think it my duty to tell that gentleman that he is mistaken,
that I am the lady who he was told by some impertinent
person was niece of the Council of Pavingstones, and that
I do beg and entreat of him to go quietly away, if it’s only
for,” here Mrs. Nickleby simpered and hesitated, “ for my
sake.”

It might have been expected that the old gentleman would
have been penetrated to the heart by the delicacy and con¬
descension of this. appeal and that he would at least have

428

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

returned a courteous and suitable reply. What, then, was
the shock which Mrs. Nickleby received when, accosting her
in the most unmistakable manner, he replied in a loud and
sonorous voice : “ Be gone, cat ! ”

“ Sir! ” cried Mrs. Nickleby, in a faint tone.

“Cat!” repeated the old gentleman. “ Puss, kit, tit,
grimalkin, tabby, brindle, whoosh ! ” With which last sound,
uttered in a hissing manner between his teeth, the old gentle¬
man swung his arms violently round and round, and at the
same time alternately advanced on Mrs. Nickleby and re¬
treated from her, in that species of savage dance with which
boys on market days may be seen to frighten pigs, sheep,
and other animals, when they give out obstinate indications
of turning down a wrong street.

Mrs. Nickleby wasted no words, but uttered an exclamation
of horror and surprise, and immediately fainted away.

“ I’ll attend to mama,” said Kate,, hastily; “ I am not at
all frightened. But please take him away; please take him
away! ”

Frank was not at all confident of his power of complying
with this request, until he bethought himself of the stratagem
of sending Miss La Creevy on a few paces in advance and
urging the old gentleman to follow her. It succeeded to a
miracle; and he went away in a rapture of admiration,
strongly guarded by Tim Linkinwater on one side and Frank
himself on the other.

“ Kate,” murmured Mrs. Nickleby, reviving when the
coast was clear, “ is he gone ? ”

She was assured that he was.

“ I shall never forgive myself, Kate, never ! That gentle¬
man has lost his senses, and I am the unhappy cause.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

429

CHAPTER XXXII

THE little race course at Hampton was in the full tide
and height of its gaiety, the day as dazzling as day could
be, the sun high in the cloudless sky and shining in its fullest
splendour.

The great race of the day had just been run, and the close
lines of people on either side of the course, suddenly breaking
up and pouring into it, imparted a new liveliness to the scene,
which was again all busy movement.

Of the gambling booths there was a plentiful show, flourish¬
ing in all the splendour of carpeted ground, striped hangings,
crimson cloth, pinnacled roofs, geranium pots, and livery
servants. It is into one of these booths that our story takes
its way.

An officer was busily plying his vocation of rolling the
ball when half a dozen persons sauntered through the booth,
to whom, but without stopping either in his speech or work,
he bowed respectfully. At the same time he directed, by
a look, the attention of a man beside him to the tallest figure
in the group, in recognition of whom the proprietor over near
the entrance pulled off his hat. This was Sir Mulberry
Hawk, with whom were his friend and pupil, Lord Veri-
sopht, and a small train of gentlemanly dressed men, of
characters more doubtful than obscure.

The proprietor in a low voice bade Sir Mulberry good day.
Sir Mulberry in the same tone bade the proprietor go to the
devil, and turned to speak with his friends.

There yet remained a slight scar on his face; and when¬
ever he was recognised, as he was almost every minute by
people sauntering in and out, he made a restless effort to
conceal it with his glove, showing how keenly he felt the
disgrace he had undergone.

430

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Ah, Hawk,” said one very sprucely dressed. “ How d’ye
do, old fellow ? ”

“ Quite well, quite well.”

“ That’s right. How d’ye do, Lord Frederick? He’s a
little pulled down, our friend Sir Mulberry here. Rather
out of condition still, hey ? ”

“ He’s in a very good condition; there’s nothing the matter
with him,” said the young man, carelessly.

“ Upon my soul I’m glad to hear it. Have you just re¬
turned from Brussels ? ”

“ We only reached town late last night,” said Lord Fred¬
erick. Sir Mulberry turned away to speak to one of his
own party, and feigned not to hear.

“ Now, upon my life,” said the friend, affecting to speak in a
whisper, “ it’s an uncommonly bold and game thing in Hawk
to show himself so soon. I say it advisedly ; there’s a vast deal
of courage in it. You see he has just rusticated long enough
to excite curiosity, and not long enough for men to have for¬
gotten that deuced unpleasant — by the by — you know the
rights of the affair, of course. Why did you never give these
confounded papers the lie ? I seldom read the papers, but
I looked in the papers for that, and may I be - ”

“ Look in the papers tomorrow — no, next day,” inter¬
rupted Sir Mulberry, turning suddenly round.

“ Upon my life, my dear fellow, I seldom or never read
the papers, but I will, at your recommendation. What shall
I look for? ”

“ Good day,” said Sir Mulberry, turning abruptly on his
heel and drawing his pupil with him. Falling again into
the loitering careless pace at which they had entered, they
lounged out, arm in arm.

“ I won’t give him a case of murder to read,” muttered
Sir Mulberry, with an oath ; “ but it shall be something very
near it, if whipcord cuts and bludgeons bruise.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

431

His companion said nothing, but there was something in
his manner which galled Sir Mulberry to add, with nearly
as much ferocity as if his friend had been Nicholas himself:
“ I sent Jenkins to old Nickleby before eight o’clock this
morning. Old Nickleby ’s a staunch one. He was back with
me before the messenger. I had it all from him in the first
five minutes. I know where this hound is to be met with;
time and place both. But there’s no need to talk; tomorrow
will soon be here.”

“ And wha-ats to be done tomorrow ? ” inquired Lord
Frederick.

Sir Mulberry Hawk honoured him with an angry glance,
but condescended to return no verbal answer to the inquiry.
Both walked sullenly on, as though their thoughts were busily
occupied, until they were quite clear of the crowd and
almost alone, when Sir Mulberry wheeled round to return.

“ Stop,” said his companion, “ I want to speak to you
in earnest. Don’t turn back. Let us walk here a few
minutes.”

“ What have you to say to me that you could not say
yonder as well as here ? ” returned his mentor, disengaging
his arm.

“ Hawk, tell me ; I must know.”

“Must know. When! Go on. If you must know, of
course, there’s no escape for me. Must know ! ”

“ Must ask , then, and must press you for a plain and
straightforward answer. Is what you have just said only
a mere whim of the moment, occasioned by your being out
of humour anc^ irritated, or is it your serious intention, and
one that you have actually contemplated ? ”

“ Why, don’t you remember what passed on the subject
one night, when I was laid up with .a broken limb ? ” said.
Sir Mulberry, with a sneer.

“ Perfectly well.”

4.32

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Then take that for an answer, in the devil’s name, and
ask me for no other.”

Such was the ascendency he had acquired over his dupe
and such the latter’s general habit of submission that, for
the moment, the young man seemed half -afraid to pursue
the subject. He soon overcame this feeling, however, and
retorted angrily:

“ If I remember what passed at the time you speak of, I
expressed a strong opinion on this subject and said that, with
my knowledge or consent, you never should do what you
threaten now.”

“ Will you prevent me? ”

“Ye-es, if I can.”

“ A very proper saving clause, that last, and one you stand
in need of. Look to your own business, and leave me to look
to mine.”

“ This is mine. I make it mine. I will make it mine. It’s
mine already. I am more compromised than I should be, as
it is.”

“ Do as you please, and what you please, for- yourself.
Surely that must content you. Do nothing for me; that’s
all. I advise no man to interfere in proceedings that I
choose to take. I am sure you know me better than to do
so. The fact is, I see, you mean to offer me advice. It is well
meant, I have no doubt, but I reject it. Now, if you please,
we will return to the carriage. I find no entertainment here,
but quite the reverse. If we prolong this conversation, we
might quarrel, which would be no proof of wisdom in either
you or me.”

With this rejoinder and waiting for no further discussion,
Sir Mulberry Hawk yawned and very leisurely turned back.

Thus they rejoined their friends, each with causes of dis¬
like against the other rankling in his breast, the young man
haunted, besides, with thoughts of the vindictive retalia-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

433

tion which was threatened against Nicholas and the de¬
termination to prevent it by some strong step, if possible.

They dined together sumptuously. The wine flowed freely,
as indeed it had done all day. Sir Mulberry drank to rec¬
ompense himself for his recent abstinence; the young lord,
to drown his indignation ; the remainder of the party, because
the wine was of the best and they had nothing to pay. It
was nearly midnight when they rushed out, wild, burning with
wine, their blood boiling, and their brains on fire, to the
gaming table.

Here they encountered another party, mad like themselves.
The excitement of play, hot rooms, and glaring lights, was
not calculated to allay the fever of the time. In that giddy
whirl of noise and confusion the men were delirious. Who
thought of money, ruin, or the morrow, in the savage in¬
toxication of the moment? Tumult and frenzy reigned
supreme, when a noise arose that drowned all others, and
two men, seizing each other by the throat, struggled into the
middle of the room.

A dozen voices, until now unheard, called aloud to part
them. Those w^ho had kept themselves cool to win and who
earned their living in such scenes, threw themselves upon the
combatants and, forcing them asunder, dragged them some
space apart.

“ Let me go ! ” cried Sir Mulberry, in a thick, hoarse voice.
“ He struck me ! Do you hear ? I say, he struck me. Have
I a friend here? Who is this? Westwood. Do you hear
me ? I say he struck me ! ”

“ I hear, I hear,” replied one of those who held him.
“ Come away, for tonight ! ”

“ I will not. A dozen men about us saw the blow.”

“ Tomorrow will be ample time.”

“ It will not be ample time ! Tonight, at once, here ! ”
His passion was so great that he could not ^articulate, but

434 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

stood clenching his fist, tearing his hair, and stamping on
the ground.

“ What is this, my lord? ” said one of those who surrounded
him. “ Have blows passed ? ”

“ One blow has,” was the panting reply. “ I struck him.
I proclaim it to all here! I struck him, and he knows why.
I say, with him, let this quarrel be adjusted now. Cap¬
tain Adams,” said the young lord, looking hurriedly about him
and addressing one of those who had interposed, “ let me
speak with you.”

The person addressed stepped forward, and taking the
young man’s arm, they retired together, followed shortly
afterwards by Sir Mulberry and his friend.

Disturbed in their orgies, the party broke up ; some reeled
away with looks of tipsy gravity; others withdrew, noisily
discussing what had just occurred; the gentlemen of honour
who lived upon their winnings remarked to each other as
they went out that Hawk was a good shot.; those who had
been most noisy fell fast asleep upon the sofas and thought
no more about it.

Meanwhile the two seconds, each with his principal, met
together in another room, both utterly heartless, both men
about town, both thoroughly initiated in its worst vices,
both deeply in debt, both fallen from some higher estate,
both addicted to every depravity.

It was a profligate haunt of the worst repute and not a
place in which such an affair was likely to awaken any
sympathy for either party.

“ This is an awkward affair, Adams,” said Mr. Westwood,
drawing himself up.

“Very,” returned the captain; “a. blow has been struck,
and there is but one course.”

“ No apology, I suppose?” said Mr. Westwood.

“ Not a syllable, sir, from my man, if we talk till dooms-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

435

day. The original cause of dispute, I understand, was some
girl or other, to whom your principal applied certain terms
which Lord Frederick, defending the girl, repelled. Sir
Mulberry was sarcastic; Lord Frederick was excited and
struck him. That blow, unless there is a full retraction on
the part of Sir Mulberry, Lord Frederick is ready to justify.”

“ There is no more to be said, but to settle the hour and
the place of meeting. It’s a responsibility, but there is a
strong feeling to have it over. Do you object to- say at sun¬
rise? ” said Mr. Westwood.

“ Sharp work ; however, as negotiation is only a waste
of words, no,” said Captain Adams.

“ Something may possibly be said out of doors which ren¬
ders it desirable that we should be off without delay and quite
clear of town,” said Mr. Westwood. “ What do you say
to one of the meadows opposite Twickenham, by the river¬
side? ”

The captain saw no objection.

After a few other preliminaries, equally brief, and having
settled the road each party should take to avoid suspicion,
they separated.

“ We shall just have comfortable time, my lord,” said the
captain, to Lord Verisopht when he had communicated the
arrangements, “ to call at my rooms for a case of pistols and
then jog coolly down. If you will allow me to dismiss your
servant, we’ll take my cab, for yours, perhaps, might be
recognised.”

What a contrast, when they reached the street, to the
scene they had just left! It was already daybreak. For the
flaring yellow light within was substituted the clear, bright,
glorious morning; for a hot, close atmosphere, tainted with
the smell of expiring lamps and reeking with the steams of
riot and dissipation, the free, fresh, wholesome air. But to
the fevered head on which that cool air blew, it seemed to

436

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

come laden with remorse for time misspent and countless
opportunities neglected. With throbbing veins and burning
skin, eyes wild and heavy, thought hurried and disordered,
he felt as though the light were a reproach and shrank in¬
voluntarily from the day as if he were some foul and hideous
thing.

“ Shivering ? ” said the captain. “ You are cold.”

“ Rather ”

“ It does strike cool, coming out of those hot rooms. Wrap
that cloak about you. So — so. Now we’re off.”

They rattled through the quiet streets, made their call
at the captain’s lodgings, cleared the town, and emerged
upon the open road without hindrance or molestation.

Fields, trees, gardens, hedges, everything looked very
beautiful. The young man scarcely seemed to have noticed
them before, though he had passed the same objects a
thousand times. There was a peace and serenity upon them
all strangely at variance with the bewilderment and con¬
fusion of his own half-sobered thoughts, and yet impressive
and welcome. He had no fear upon his mind; but as he
looked about him, he had less anger; and though all old
delusions relative to his worthless late companion were now
cleared away, he rather wished he had never known him than
thought of its having come to this.

They stopped at the avenue gate and alighted, leaving the
carriage to the care of the servant, who was a smart fellow
and nearly as well accustomed to such proceedings as his
master. Sir Mulberry and his friend were already there.
All four walked in profound silence up the aisle of stately
elm trees, which, meeting far above their heads, formed a
long green perspective of gothic arches terminating, like
some old ruin, in the open sky.

After a pause and a brief conference between the seconds,
they at length turned to the right and, taking a track across

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

437

a little meadow, came into some fields beyond. In one of
these, they stopped. The ground was measured, some usual
forms gone through, the two principals were placed front to
front at the distance agreed upon, and Sir Mulberry turned
his face towards his young adversary for the first time. He
was very pale, his eyes were bloodshot, his dress disordered,
and his hair dishevelled. The face expressed nothing
but violent and evil passions. He shaded his eyes with his
hand, gazed at his opponent steadfastly for a few moments,
and then, taking the weapon which was tendered to him,
bent his eyes upon that and looked up no more until the
word was given, when he hastily fired.

The two shots were fired, as nearly as possible, at the
same instant. In that instant, the young lord turned his
head sharply round, fixed upon his adversary a ghastly stare,
and without a groan or stagger fell down dead.

“ He’s gone! ” cried Westwood, who, with the other second,
had run up to the body and fallen on one knee beside it.

“ His blood on his own head,” said Sir Mulberry. “ He
brought this upon himself and forced it upon me.”

“ Captain Adams,” cried Westwood, hastily, “ I call you
to witness that this was fairly done. Hawk, we have not a
moment to lose. We must leave this place immediately, push
for Brighton, and cross to France with all speed. This has
been a bad business, and may be worse, if we delay a moment.
Adams, consult your own safety, and don’t remain here; the
living before the dead. Good-by! ”

With these words, he seized Sir Mulberry by the arm and
hurried him away.

So died Lord Frederick Verisopht, by the hand which he
had loaded with gifts and clasped a thousand times; by the
act of him, but for whom and others like him, he might have
lived a happy man and died with children’s faces round his
bed.

438

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XXXIII

THERE go the three-quarter past! ” muttered Newman
Noggs to himself, listening to the chimes of some
neighbouring church, “ and my dinner time’s two. He does
it on purpose. He makes a point of it. It’s just like him.”

It was in his own little den of an office and on the top of
his official stool that Newman thus spoke. “ I don’t believe
he ever had an appetite except for pounds, shillings, and
pence, and with them he’s ^s greedy as a wolf. I should
like to have him compelled to swallow one of every English
coin. The penny would be an awkward morsel — but the
crown — ha! ha! ”

“ Five minutes to three,” growled Newman, “ it can’t
want more by this time; and I had my breakfast at eight
o’clock, and such a breakfast! and my right dinner time is
two ! And I might have a nice little bit of hot roast spoiling
at home all this time — how does he know I haven’t ! ‘ Don’t
go till I come back,’ ‘ Don’t go till I come back,’ day after
day. What do you always go out at my dinner time for
then — eh? Don’t you know it’s nothing but aggravation
— eh?”

These words, though uttered in a very loud key, were
addressed to nothing but empty air. The recital, however,
seemed to have the effect of making Newman Noggs des¬
perate. He flattened his old hat upon his head and declared
with great vehemence that come what might he would go to
dinner that very minute. Carrying this resolution into
instant effect, he had advanced as far as the passage, when
the sound of the latch key in the street door caused him to
make a very sudden retreat into his own office again, saying
to himself :

“ Here he is and somebody with him. Now it’ll be ‘ Stop
till this gentleman’s gone.’ But I won’t. That’s flat.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

439

So saying, Newman slipped into a tall empty closet, which
opened with two half -doors, and shut himself up, intending
to slip out as soon as Ralph was safe inside his own room.

“ Noggs! ” cried Ralph Nickleby, “ Where is that fellow,
Noggs? ”

But not a word said Newman.

“ The dog has gone to his dinner, though I told him not/’
muttered Ralph, looking into the office and pulling out his
watch. “Humph! You had better come in here, Gride.
My man’s out, and the sun is hot upon my room. This is
cool and in the shade, if you don’t mind roughing it.”

“ Not at all, Mr. Nickleby. Oh, not at all. All places
are alike to me, sir. Ah, very nice indeed. Oh, very nice! ”

The person who made this reply was a little old man of
seventy or seventy-five years of age of a very lean figure,
much bent, and slightly twisted. He wore a grey coat and
such scanty trousers as displayed his shrunken spindle shanks
in their full ugliness. His nose and chin were sharp and
prominent; his jaws had fallen inward from loss of teeth;
his face was shrivelled and yellow. The whole air and attitude
of the form was one of stealthy catlike obsequiousness; the
whole expression of the face was concentrated in a wrinkled
leer. Such was old Arthur Gride, as he sat in a low chair
looking up into the face of Ralph Nickleby, who, lounging on
the tall office’ stool with his arms upon his knees, looked down
into his; a match for him, on whatever errand he had come.

“ And how have you been? ” said Gride, pretending great
interest in Ralph’s state of health. “ I haven’t seen you for
— oh! not for - ”

“ Not for a long time,” said Ralph, with a peculiar smile,
showing that he very well knew it was not on a mere visit
of compliment that his friend had come. “ It was a narrow
chance that you saw me now, for I had only just come up
to the door as you turned the corner.”

440

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I am very lucky,” observed Gride.

“ So men say,” replied Ralph drily.

The older money lender, Gride, wagged his chin and smiled,
but he originated no new remark, and they sat for some little
time without speaking. Each was looking out to take the
other at a disadvantage.

“Come, Gride, what’s in the wind today?” said Ralph
at length.

“ Oh dear, dear, what a bold man you are! Aha, you’re a
bold man, Mr. Nickleby! ”

“ Why, you have a sleek and slinking way with you that
makes me seem so by contrast. I don’t know but that yours
may answer better, but I want the patience for it,” said
Ralph.

“ You were a born genius, Mr. Nickleby. Deep, deep,
deep. Ah! ”

“ Deep enough to know that I shall need all the depth I
have, when men like you begin to compliment. You know
I have stood by when you fawned and flattered other people,
and I remember pretty well what that always led to.”

“ Ha, ha, ha! ” rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. “ So
you do, so you do, no doubt. Not a man knows it better.
Well, it’s a pleasant thing to think that you remember old
times. Oh, dear! ”

“ Now then,” said Ralph, composedly, “ what’s in the
wind, I ask again? What is it?”

“ See that now ! He can’t even keep from business while
we’re chatting over bygones. Oh dear, dear, what a man it
is! ”

“ Which of the bygones do you want to revive?” said
Ralph; “ one of them, I know, or you wouldn’t talk about
them.”

“ He suspects even me ! ” cried old Arthur, holding up his
hands. “Even me! Oh, dear, even me. What a man it

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

441

is ! Ha, ha, ha ! What a man it is ! Mr. Nickleby against
all the world. There’s nobody like him. A giant among
pigmies, a giant, a giant ! ”

Ralph looked at the old dog with a quiet smile as he
chuckled on in this strain, and Newman Noggs in the closet
felt his heart sink within him as the prospect of dinner grew
fainter and fainter.

“ I must humour him, though,” cried old Arthur; “ he must
have his way — a wilful man, as the Scotch say — well, well,
they’re a wise people, the Scotch. He will talk about busi¬
ness, and won’t give away his time for nothing. He’s very
right. Time is money, time is money.”

“ He was one of us who made that saying, I should think,”
said Ralph. “ Time is money, and very good money, too,
to those who reckon interest by it. Time is money! Yes,
and time costs money ; it’s rather an expensive article to some
people we could name, or I forget my trade.”

In rejoinder to this, old Arthur again raised his hands,
again chuckled, and again ejaculated “What a man it is! ”
which done, he dragged the low chair a little nearer to Ralph’s
high stool and, looking upwards into his immovable face,
said,

“ What would you say to me if I was to tell you that I
was — that I was — going to be married ? ”

“ I should tell you, that for some purpose of your own
you told a lie and that it wasn’t the first time and wouldn’t
be the last; that I wasn’t surprised, and wasn’t to be
taken in.”

“ Then I tell you seriously that I am,” said old Arthur.

“ And I tell you seriously what I told you this minute.
Stay. Let me look at you. There’s a liquorish deviltry in
your face. What is this? ”

“ I wouldn’t deceive you, you know,” whined Arthur Gride.
“ I couldn’t do it. I should be mad to try. I, I, to deceive

442

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Mr. Nickleby! The pigmy to impose upon the giant. I
ask again — he, he, he ! — what should you say to me if I was
to tell you that I was going to be married ? ”

“ To some old hag? ” said Ralph.

“ No, no/’ cried Arthur, interrupting him and rubbing his
hands in an ecstasy. “ Wrong, wrong again. Mr. Nickleby
for once at fault — quite out ! . To a young and beautiful
girl; fresh, lovely, bewitching, and not nineteen. Dark
eyes, long eyelashes, ripe and ruddy lips that to look at is
to long to kiss, beautiful clustering hair that one’s fingers
itch to play with, such a waist as might make a man clasp the
air involuntarily thinking of twining his arm about it, little
feet that tread so lightly they hardly seem to walk upon the
ground — to marry all this, sir, — hey, hey! ”

“ This is something more than common drivelling,” said
Ralph, after listening with a curled lip to the old sinner’s
raptures. “ The girl’s name?”

“ Oh deep, deep ! See now how deep that is ! He knows
I want his help, he knows he can give it me, he knows it must
all turn to his advantage, he sees the thing already. Her
name — is there nobody within hearing ? ”

“ Why, who in the devil should there be? ” retorted Ralph.

“ I didn’t know but that perhaps somebody might be
passing up or down the stairs,” said Arthur Gride, after
looking out at the door and carefully reclosing it; “ or but
that your man might have come back and might have been
listening outside. Clerks and servants have a trick of listen¬
ing, and I should have been very uncomfortable. Is Mr.
Noggs - ”

“ Curse Mr. Noggs, and go on with what you have to say,”
rejoined Ralph.

“ Curse Mr. Noggs by all means,” said old Arthur. “ I
am sure I have not the least objection to that. Her name

“ What would you say to me if I was to tell you — that I was
— going to be married? ”

444

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Well,” said Ralph, rendered very irritable by old Arthur’s
pausing again. “ What is it ? ”

“ Madeline Bray.”

“ Bray/’ said Ralph. “ Bray — there was young Bray of
— no, he never had a daughter.”

“ You remember Bray? ” asked Arthur Gride.

“ No,” said Ralph, looking vacantly at him.

“Not Walter Bray! The dashing man who used his
handsome wife so ill ? ”

“ If you seek to recall any particular dashing man to my
recollection by such a trait as that, I shall confound him with
nine-tenths of the dashing men I have ever known.”

“ Tut, tut. That Bray both of us did business with. You
can’t have forgotten Bray. Why he owes you money! ”

“Oh him! Ay, ay. Now you speak. Oh! It’s his
daughter, is it ? ”

“ I knew you couldn’t forget him, when you came to think
for a moment.”

“ You were right,” answered Ralph. “ But old Arthur
Gride and matrimony is a most anomalous conjunction of
words. Old Arthur Gride and dark eyes and eyelashes, and
lips that to look at is to long to kiss, and clustering hair that
he wants to play with, and waists that he wants to span, and
little feet that don’t tread upon anything — old Arthur Gride
and such things as these is more monstrous still. Plainly,
friend Arthur, if you want any help from me in this business
(which of course you do, or you would not be here), speak
out and to the purpose. And above all don’t talk to me of it’s
turning to my advantage, for I know it must turn to yours
also, and to a good round tune, too, or you would have no
finger in such a pie as this.”

“ Well,” said Gride, “ the little plan I have in mind to
bring this about (I haven’t offered myself even to the father
yet), I should have told you, but you seem to have guessed

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 445

something of it already. Ah! Oh dear, what an edged tool
you are! ”

“ Don’t play with me then,” said Ralph, impatiently.
“ You know the old proverb.”

“ A reply always on the tip of his tongue ! ” cried old
Arthur, raising his hands and eyes in admiration. “ He is
always prepared! Oh dear, what a blessing to have such a
ready wit, and so much ready money to back it! ” Then,
suddenly changing his tone, he went on :

“ I have been backwards and forwards to Bray’s lodgings
several times within the last six months. It is just half a
year since I first saw this delicate morsel, and — oh dear —
what a delicate morsel it is! But that is neither here nor
there. I am his creditor for seventeen hundred pounds.”

“ You talk as if you were the only creditor,” said Ralph,
pulling out his pocketbook. “ I am another for nine hundred
and seventy-five pounds four and threepence.”

“ The only other, Mr. Nickleby,” said old Arthur eagerly.
“ The only other. We both fell into the same snare. Oh,
dear, what a pitfall it was! It almost ruined me. Ah! It
went very nigh to ruin me, that loss did! ”

“ Go on with your scheme,” said Ralph. “ It’s of no use
raising the cry of our trade just now; there’s nobody to hear
us.”

“ It’s always as well to talk that way,” returned old Arthur,
with a chuckle, “ whether there’s anybody to hear us or not.
Practice makes perfect, you know. Now, if I offer myself
to Bray as his son-in-law, upon the condition that the moment
I am fast married he shall be quickly released, and have an
allowance to live just t’other side the water like a gentleman
(he can’t live long, for I have asked his doctor, and he declares
his complaint is one of the heart and it is impossible), and
if all the advantages of this condition are properly stated and
dwelt upon to him, do you think he could resist me? And

446

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

if he could not resist me, do you think his daughter could
resist him ? Shouldn’t I have her Mrs. Arthur Gride —
pretty Mrs. Arthur Gride — a titbit — a dainty chick —
shouldn’t I have her Mrs. Arthur Gride in a week, a month,
a day, — any time I chose to name ? ”

“ Go on,” said Ralph, nodding his head deliberately. “ Go
on. You didn’t come here to ask me that.”

“ Oh, dear, how you talk ! ” cried old Arthur, edging himself
closer still to Ralph. “ Of course, I didn’t ; I don’t pretend
I did! I came to ask you what you would take from me, if
I prospered with the father, for this debt of yours. You
are such a good friend. We have always been on such good
terms. You won’t be hard upon me, I know. Now, will
you? ”

“ There’s something more,” said Ralph.

“ Yes, yes, there is, but you won’t give me time. I want
a backer in this matter: one who can talk, and urge, and
press a point, which you can do as no man can. I can’t do
that, for I am a poor, timid, nervous creature. Now if you
get a good composition for this debt, which you long ago
gave up for lost, you’ll stand my friend and help me. Won’t
you ? ”

“ There’s something more,” said Ralph.

“ No, no, indeed,” cried Arthur Gride.

“ Yes, yes, indeed, I tell you,” said Ralph.

“Oh! ” returned old Arthur, pretending to be suddenly
enlightened. “ You mean something more, as concerns myself
and my intention. Ay, surely, surely. Shall I mention
that ? ”

“ I think you had better,” rejoined Ralph, drily.

“ I didn’t like to trouble you with that, because I supposed
your interest would cease with your own concern in the
affair. That’s kind of you to ask. Oh dear, how very kind
of you! Why, supposing I had a knowledge of some prop-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

447

erty — some little property — very little — to which this
pretty chick was entitled, which nobody does or can know
of at this time, but which her husband could sweep into his
pouch, if he knew as much as I do, would that account
for - ”

“ For the whole proceeding,” rejoined Ralph, abruptly.
“ Now let me turn this matter over, and consider what I ought
to have if I should help you to success.”

“ But don’t be hard,” cried old Arthur, raising his hand
with an imploring gesture and speaking in a tremulous voice.
“ Don’t be too hard upon me. It’s a very small property,
it is indeed. Say ten shillings in the pound, and we’ll close
the bargain. It’s more than I ought to give, but you’re so
kind — shall we say the ten? Do now, do.”

Ralph took no notice of these supplications, but sat for
three or four minutes, looking thoughtfully at the person
from whom they proceeded. Finally he said:

“ If you married this girl without me, you must pay my
debt in full, because you couldn’t set her father free other¬
wise. It’s plain, then, that I must have the whole amount.
That’s the first article of the treaty. Second, for my trouble
in negotiation and persuasion, and helping you to this fortune,
I must have five hundred pounds. That’s very little, because
you have the ripe lips and the clustering hair, and what not
all to yourself. Third, I require that you execute a bond to
me, this day, binding yourself in the payment of these two
sums before noon on the day of your marriage with Miss
Madeline Bray. You have told me I can urge and press a
point. I press this one and will take nothing less than these
terms. Accept them if you like. If not, marry her without
me if you can. I shall still get my debt.”

To all entreaties and offers of compromise Ralph was deaf
as an adder. He would enter into no further discussion of
the subject, and while old Arthur dilated on the enormity of

448

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

his demands and proposed modifications of them, sat per¬
fectly mute, looking over the entries and papers in his pocket-
book. Finding that it was impossible to make any impres¬
sion upon his staunch friend, Arthur Gride consented with
a heavy heart to the proposed treaty and upon the spot
filled up the bond required, after exacting the condition that
Mr. Nickleby should accompany him to Bray’s lodgings
that very hour and open negotiation at once.

The worthy gentlemen went out together shortly after¬
wards, and Newman emerged from the cupboard, out of the
upper door of which at the imminent risk of detection, he had
more than once thrust his nose when such parts of the subject
were under discussion as interested him most.

“ I have no appetite now,” said Newman Noggs. Having
delivered this observation in a very grievous and doleful tone,
he reached the door in one long limp, and came back again
in another. “ I don’t know who she may be, or what she
may be, but I pity her with all my heart and soul; and I
can’t help her! nor can I help any of the people against
whom a hundred tricks, but none so vile as this, are plotted
every day! Well, that adds to my pain, but not to theirs.
The thing is no worse because I know it, and it tortures me
as well as them. Gride and Nickleby! Good pair for a
curricle. Oh roguery, roguery, roguery! ”

With these reflections and a very hard knock on the crown of
his unfortunate hat at each repetition of the last word, New¬
man Noggs went forth to seek such consolation as might be
derivable from the beef and greens of some cheap eating house.

Meanwhile the two plotters had gone to the same house
where Nicholas had gone for the first time a few mornings
before and, having obtained access to Mr. Bray and found
his daughter from home, had at length laid open the real
object of their visit. Ralph did nearly all the talking, saying
at length;

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

449

“ There he sits, Mr. Bray/’ as the invalid, not yet recovered
from his surprise, reclined in his chair, looking alternately
at him and Arthur Gride. “ Here is an offer of marriage that
many a titled father would leap at for his child; Mr. Arthur
Gride, with the fortune of a prince. Think what a haul it
is! ”

“ My daughter, sir,” returned Bray, haughtily, “ as I
have brought her up, would be a rich recompense for the
largest fortune that a man could bestow in exchange for her
hand.”

“ Precisely what I told you,” said the artful Ralph, turn¬
ing to his friend, old Arthur. “ Precisely what made me
consider the thing so fair and easy. There is no obligation
on either side. You have money, and Miss Madeline has
beauty and worth. She has youth; you have money. She
has not money, you have not youth. Tit for tat, quits, a
match of heaven’s own making.”

“ Matches are made in heaven, they say,” added Arthur
Gride, leering hideously at the father-in-law he wanted.
“ If we are married, it will be destiny, according to that.”

“ Then think, Mr. Bray,” said Ralph, “ think what a stake
is involved in the acceptance or rejection of these proposals
of my friend.”

“How can I accept or reject?” interrupted Mr. Bray,
with an irritable consciousness that it really rested with him
to decide. “ It is for my daughter to accept or reject; it is
for my daughter. You know that.”

“True,” said Ralph, emphatically, “but you have still
the power to advise, to state the reasons for and against,
to hint a wish.”

“To hint a wish, sir! ” returned the debtor, proud and
mean by turns, and selfish at all times. “ I am her father,
am I not? Why should I hint and beat about the bush?
Do you suppose, as her mother’s friends and my enemies do

450

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

— a curse upon them all ! — that there is anything in what
she has done for me but duty, sir, but duty? Or do you
think that my having been unfortunate is a reason why our
positions should be changed and that she should command
and I should obey ? Hint a wish, too ! Perhaps you think,
because you see me scarcely able to leave this chair without
assistance, that I am some broken-spirited dependent creature
without the courage or power to do what I think best for my
own child. Still the power to hint a wish! I hope so! ”

“ Pardon me,” returned Ralph, who thoroughly knew his
man and had taken his ground accordingly, “you do not
hear me out. I was about to say that your hinting a
wish, even hinting a wish, would be equivalent to com¬
manding.”

“ Why, of course, it would,” retorted Mr. Bray, in an
exasperated tone. “ If you don’t happen to have heard of
the time, sir, I tell you that there was a time when I carried
every point in triumph against her mother’s whole family,
although they had power and wealth on their side, by my
will alone.”

“ Still,” rejoined Ralph, as mildly as his nature would
allow him, “ you have not heard me out. You are a man
yet qualified to shine in society with many years of life before
you; that is, if you lived in freer air and under brighter
skies and chose your own companions. Gaiety is your ele¬
ment. You have shone in it before. Fashion and freedom
for you. France and an annuity that would support you
there in luxury would give you a new lease of life, would
transfer you to a new existence. The town rang with your
expensive pleasures once, and you could blaze on a new
scene again, profiting by experience and living a little at
others’ cost, instead of letting others live at yours. What
is there on the reverse side of the picture? What is there?
I don’t know which is the nearest churchyard, but a grave-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

451

stone there, wherever it is, and a date, perhaps two years
hence, perhaps twenty. That’s all.”

Mr. Bray rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and
shaded his face with his hand.

“ I speak plainly,” said Ralph, sitting down beside him,
" because I feel strongly. It’s my interest that you should
marry your daughter to my friend Gride, because then he
sees me paid — in part, that is. I don’t disguise it. I
acknowledge it openly. But what interest have you in
recommending her to such a step? Keep that in view.
She might object, remonstrate, shed tears, talk of his being
too old, and plead that her life would be rendered miserable.
But what is it now ? What is it now, I say, or what has it a
chance of being? If you died, indeed, the people you hate
would make her happy. But can you bear the thought of
that? ”

“ No! ” returned Bray, urged by a vindictive impulse he
could not repress.

“I should imagine not, indeed! ” said Ralph. “If she
profits by anybody’s death,” this was said in a lower tone,
“ let it be by her husband’s. Don’t let her have to look back
to yours as the event from which to date a happier life.
Where is the objection? Let me hear it stated. What is
it? That her suitor is an old man? Why, how often do
men of family and fortune, who haven’t your excuse, how
often do they marry their daughters to old men or, (worse
still) to young men without heads or hearts, to please some
idle vanity, strengthen some family interest, or secure some
seat in Parliament! Judge for her, sir, judge for her. You
must know best, and she will live to thank you.”

“Hush! hush! ” cried Mr. Bray, suddenly starting up,
and covering Ralphs mouth with his trembling hand. “ I
hear her at the door ! ”

There was a gleam of conscience in the shame and terror

452

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

of this hasty action, which, in one short moment, tore the
thin covering from the cruel design and laid it bare in all
its meanness and heartless deformity. The father fell into
his chair pale, and trembling. Arthur Gride plucked and
fumbled at his hat and dared not raise his eyes from the
floor. Even Ralph crouched for the moment like a beaten
hound, cowed by the presence of one young innocent girl.

The effect was almost as brief as sudden. Ralph was the
first to recover himself and, observing Madeline’s looks of
alarm, entreated the poor girl to be composed, assuring her
that there was no cause for fear.

“ A sudden spasm,” said Ralph, glancing at Mr. Bray. “ He
is quite well now.”

It might have moved a very hard and worldly heart to see
the young and beautiful girl, whose certain misery they had
been contriving but a minute before, throw her arms about
her father’s neck and pour forth words of tender sympathy
and love, the sweetest a father’s ear can know or child’s lips
form.

“ Madeline,” said her father, gently disengaging himself, “ it
was nothing.”

“ But you had that spasm yesterday, and it is terrible to
see you in such pain. Can I do nothing for you? ”

“ Nothing just now. Here are two gentlemen, Madeline,
one of whom you have seen before. She used to say,”
added Mr. Bray, addressing Arthur Gride, “ that the sight
of you always made me worse. That was natural, knowing
what she did, and only what she did, of our connexion and
its results. Well, well. Perhaps she may change her mind
on that point. Girls have leave to change their minds, you
know. You are very tired, my dear.”

“ I am not, indeed.”

“ Indeed you are. You do too much.”

“ I wish I could do more.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

453

“ I know you do, but you overtask your strength. This
wretched life, my love, of daily labour and fatigue is more
than you can bear. I am sure it is. Poor Madeline! ”

With these and many more kind words, Mr. Bray drew
his daughter to him and kissed her cheek affectionately.

“ You will communicate with us again? ” said Ralph.

“ Yes, yes,” returned Mr. Bray, hastily thrusting his
daughter aside. “ In a week. In a week. Give me a week.”

“ One week,” said Ralph, turning to his companion, “ from
today. Good morning. Miss Madeline, I kiss your hand.”

“ We will shake hands, Gride,” said Mr. Bray, extending
his, as old Arthur bowed. “ You mean well, no doubt. I
am bound to say so now. If I owed you money, that was
not your fault. Madeline, my love, your hand here.”

“ Oh dear ! If the young lady would condescend ! Only
the tips of her fingers! ” said Arthur, hesitating and half¬
retreating.

Madeline shrank involuntarily from the goblin figure, but
she placed the tips of her fingers in his hand and instantly
withdrew them. After an ineffectual clutch, intended to
detain and carry them to his lips, old Arthur gave his own
fingers a mumbling kiss, and with many amorous distor¬
tions of visage went in pursuit of his friend, who was by this
time in the street.

“ What does he say, what does he say ? What does the
giant say to the pigmy ? ” inquired Arthur Gride, hobbling up
to Ralph.

“ What does the pigmy say to the giant? ” rejoined Ralph,
elevating his eyebrows and looking down upon his questioner.

“ He doesn’t know what to say,” replied Arthur Gride.
“ He hopes and fears. But is she not a dainty morsel? ”

“I have no great taste for beauty,” growled Ralph.

“ But I have,” rejoined Arthur, rubbing his hands. “ Oh
dear ! How handsome her eyes looked when she was stooping

454

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

over him! Such long lashes, such delicate fringe! She —
she — looked at me so soft.”

“ Not overlovingly, I think, did she? ” said Ralph.

“'No, you think not? But don’t you think it can be
brought about? Don’t you think it can? ”

Ralph looked at him with a contemptuous frown and
replied with a sneer and between his teeth:

“ Did you mark his telling her she was tired and did too
much, and overtasked her strength? ”

“ Ay, ay. What of it?”

“ When do you think he ever told her that before ? The
life is more than she can bear! Yes, yes. He’ll change it
for her.”

“ D’ye think it’s done? ” inquired old Arthur, peering into
his companion’s face with half-closed eyes.

“ I’m sure it’s done,” said Ralph. “ He is trying to deceive
himself, even before our eyes, already. He is making believe
that he thinks of her good and not his own. He is acting a
virtuous part and is so considerate and affectionate that his
daughter scarcely knew him. I saw a tear of surprise in
her eye. There’ll be a few more tears of surprise there before
long, though a different kind. Oh, we may wait with confi¬
dence for this day week.”

CHAPTER XXXIV

IN an old house, dismal, dark, and dusty, which seemed
to have withered, like himself, and to have grown yellow
and shrivelled in hoarding him from the light of the day, as
he had in hoarding his money, lived Arthur Gride. Meagre
old chairs and tables of spare and bony make were ranged in
grim array against the gloomy walls. A tall grim clock upon
the stairs, with long lean hands and famished face, ticked in

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

455

cautious whispers; and when it struck the time in thin and
piping sounds like an old man's voice, it rattled as if it were
pinched with hunger.

The dark square lumbering bedsteads seemed built for
restless dreams. The musty hangings seemed to creep in
scanty folds together, whispering among themselves, when
rustled by the wind, their trembling knowledge of the tempt¬
ing wares that lurked within the dark and tight-locked
closets.

From out the most spare and hungry room in all this spare
and hungry house there came, one morning, the tremulous
tones of old Gride's voice, as it feebly chirruped forth the
end of some forgotten song.

Ta — ran — tan — too,

Throw the old shoe,

And may the wedding be lucky!

which he repeated in the same shrill quavering tones again
and again until a violent fit of coughing obliged him to desist
and to pursue in silence the occupation upon which he was
engaged.

This occupation was to take down from the shelves of a
worm-eaten wardrobe, a quantity of frowsy garments, one
by one; to subject each to a careful and minute inspection
by holding it up against the light, and, after folding it with
great exactness, to lay it on one or other of two little heaps
beside him. He never took two articles of clothing out to¬
gether, but always brought them forth singly and never failed
to shut the wardrobe door and turn the key between each
visit to its shelves.

“ The snuff-coloured suit," said Arthur Gride, surveying a
threadbare coat. “ Did I look well in snuff colour? Let me
think."

The result of his cogitations appeared to be unfavourable,

456 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

and he folded the garment once more, laid it aside, and
mounted on a chair to get down another, chirping while he
did so :

Young, loving, and fair,

Oh, what happiness there !

The wedding is sure to be lucky!

“ They always put in ‘ young ’ but songs are only written
for the sake of rhyme, and this is a silly one that the poor
country people sang when I was a little boy. Though, stop
— young is quite right, too — it means the bride — yes. He,
he, he! It means the bride. Oh, dear, that’s good. That’s
very good. And true besides — quite true! ”

In the satisfaction of this discovery he went over the verse
again with increased expression and a shake or two here and
there. He then resumed his employment.

“ The bottle green, the bottle green was a famous suit to
wear, and I bought it very cheap at a pawnbroker’s, and there
was — he, he, he! a — tarnished shilling in the waistcoat
pocket. To think that the pawnbroker shouldn’t have known
there was a shilling in it! I knew it! I felt it when I was
examining the quality. Oh, what a dull dog of a pawn¬
broker! It was a lucky suit, too, this bottle green. The
vefy day I put it on first, old Lord Mallowford was burnt to
death in his bed, and all the post bonds to be paid after
death fell in, and I made more money. I’ll be married
in the bottle green, Peg. Peg Sliderskew — I’ll wear the
bottle green! ”

This call, loudly repeated twice or thrice at the room door,
brought into the apartment a short, thin, weasen, blear-eyed
old woman, palsy-stricken, and hideously ugly, who, wiping
her shrivelled face upon her dirty apron, inquired in that
subdued tone in which deaf people commonly speak:

“ Was that you a’calling, or only the clock a’striking ? My
hearing gets so bad I never know which is which; but when

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 457

I hear a noise, I know it must be one of you, because nothing
else ever stirs in the house.”

“ Me, Peg, me,” said Arthur Gride, tapping himself on the
breast to render the reply nmre intelligible.

“ You, eh? And what do you want? ”

“ I’ll be married in the bottle green.”

“ It’s a deal too good to be married in, master,” rejoined
Peg, after a short inspection of the suit. “ Haven’t you got
anything worse than this ? ”

“ Nothing that’ll do.”

“ Why not do ? Why don’t you wear your everyday
clothes, like a man — eh ? ”

“ They an’t becoming enough, Peg.”

“ Not what enough? ”

“ Becoming.”

“Becoming what? Not becoming too old to wear?”

Arthur Gride muttered an imprecation on his house¬
keeper’s deafness, as he roared in her ear:

“ Not smart enough! I want to look as well as I can.”

“ Look ! If she’s as handsome as you say she is, she won’t
look much at you, master, take your oath of that; and as
to how you look yourself — pepper and salt, bottle green,
sky blue, or tartan plaid will make no difference in you.”

With which consolatory assurance, Peg Sliderskew gathered
up the chosen suit and, folding her skinny arms upon the
bundle, stood mouthing and grinning and blinking her watery
eyes like an uncouth figure in some monstrous piece of
carving.

“ You’re in a funny humour, an’t you, Peg? ”

“ Why, isn’t it enough to make me ? I shall soon enough
be put out of humour, though, if anybody tries to domineer
it over me; and so I give you notice, master. Nobody shall
be put over Peg Sliderskew’s head after so many years; you
know that, and so I needn’t tell you ! That won’t do for me

458

NICHOLAS klCKLEBY

— no, no, nor for you. Try that plan, and come to ruin
ruin — ruin! ”

“ Oh dear, dear, I shall never try it, not for the world.
It would be very easy to ruin me; we must be very careful;
more saving than ever, with another mouth to feed. Only
we — we mustn’t let her lose her good looks, Peg, because
I like to see ’em.”

“ Take care you don’t find good looks come expensive.”

“ But she can earn money herself, Peg, she can draw, paint,
work all manner of pretty things for ornamenting stools and
chairs; slippers, Peg, watch guards, hair chains, and a thou¬
sand little dainty trifles that I couldn’t give you half the
names of. Then she can play the piano (and, what’s more,
she’s got one), and sing like a little bird. She’ll be very
cheap to dress and keep, Peg; don’t you think she will? ”

“ If you don’t let her make a fool of you, she may.”

“A fool of me! Trust your old master not to be fooled
by pretty faces, Peg; no, no, no — nor by ugly ones neither,
Mrs. Sliderskew,” he softly added by way of soliloquy.

“ You’re a’saying something you don’t want me to hear.
I know you are.”

“ Oh dear! The devil’s in this woman,” muttered Arthur,
adding with an ugly leer, “ I said I trusted everything to
you, Peg. That was all.”

“ You do that, master, and all your cares are over.”

“ When I do that, Peg Sliderskew,” thought Arthur Gride,
“ they will be.”

Although he thought this very distinctly, he dared not
move his lips lest the old woman should detect him. He
even seemed half -afraid that she might have read his
thoughts; for he leered coaxingly upon her, as he said aloud:

“ Take up all loose stitches in the bottle green with the
best black silk. Have a skein of the best, and some new
buttons for the coat, and — this is a good idea, Peg, and one

459

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

you’ll like, I know — as I have never given her anything
yet, and girls like such attentions, you shall polish up a
sparkling necklace that I have got upstairs, and I’ll give it
to her upon the wedding morning — clasp it round her
charming little neck myself — and take it away again next
day. He, he, he! I’ll lock it up for her, Peg, and lose it.
Who’ll be made the fool of there, I wonder, to begin with —
eh, Peg ? ”

Mrs. Sliderskew appeared to approve highly of this in¬
genious scheme and expressed her satisfaction by various
racking and twitchings of her head and body, which by no
means enhanced her charms. These she prolonged until
she had hobbled to the door, when she exchanged them for
a sour malignant look and, twisting her under jaw from side
to side, muttered hearty curses upon the future Mrs. Gride,
as she crept slowly down the stairs and paused for breath
at nearly every one.

“ She’s half a witch, I think,” said Arthur Gride, when he
found himself alone again. “ But she’s very frugal, and she’s
very deaf. Her living costs me next to nothing; and it’s no
use her listening at the keyholes, for she can’t hear. She’s a
charming woman — for the purpose; a most discreet old
housekeeper, and worth her weight in — copper.”

Having extolled the merits of his domestic in these high
terms, old Arthur went back to the burden of his song.
The suit destined to grace his approaching nuptials being
now selected, he replaced the others with no less care than
he had displayed in drawing them from the musty nooks
where they had silently reposed for many years.

Startled by a ring at the door, he hastily concluded this
operation and locked the press; but there was no need for
any particular hurry, as the discreet Peg seldom knew the
bell was rung unless she happened to cast her dim eyes up¬
ward and to see it shaking against the kitchen ceiling.

460

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

After a short delay, however, Peg tottered in, followed by
Newman Noggs.

“Ah! Mr. Noggs! ” cried Arthur Gride, rubbing his
hands. “ My good friend, Mr. Noggs, what news do you
bring for me ? ”

Newman, with a steadfast and immovable aspect, replied,
suiting his action to the word, “ A letter. From Mr. Nickleby .
Bearer waits.”

“ Won’t you take a — a - ”

Newman looked up and smacked his lips.

“ A chair? ”

“ No, thank’ee.”

Arthur opened the letter, with trembling hands, and
devoured its contents with the utmost greediness, chuckling
rapturously over it and reading it several times before he
could take it from before his eyes. So many times did he
peruse and re-peruse it that Newman considered it expedient
to remind him of his presence.

“Answer; bearer waits/’

“True. Yes — yes; I almost forgot; I do declare.”

“ I thought you were forgetting.”

“ Quite right to remind me, Mr. Noggs. Oh, very right
indeed. Yes, I’ll write a line. I’m — I’m rather flurried,
Mr. Noggs. The news is - ”

“Bad?”

“ No, Mr. Noggs, thank you; good, good. The very best
of news. Sit down. I’ll get the pen and ink and write a line
in answer. I’ll not detain you long. I know you’re a treas¬
ure to your master, Mr. Noggs. He speaks of you in such
terms sometimes that — oh dear! — you’d be astonished.
I may say that I do, too, and always did. I always say the
same of you.”

“That’s ‘Curse Mr. Noggs with all my heart! ’ then, if
you do,” thought Newman, as Gride hurried out.

461

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The letter had fallen on the ground. Looking carefully
about him for an instant, Newman, impelled by curiosity
to know the result of the design he had overheard from his
office closet, caught it up and rapidly read as follows:

Gride. •

I saw Bray again this morning and proposed the day after
tomorrow (as you suggested) for the marriage. There is
no objection on his part, and all days are alike to his
daughter. We will go together, and you must be with me
by seven in the morning. I need not tell you to be punc¬
tual.

Make no further visits to the girl. You have been there
much oftener than you should. She does not languish for
you, and it might have been dangerous. Restrain your
youthful ardour for eight-and-forty hours, and leave her
to the father. You only undo what he does, and does well.

Yours,

Ralph Nickleby.

A footstep was heard without. Newman dropped the
letter on the same spot again, pressed it with his foot to
prevent its fluttering away, regained his seat in a single
stride, and looked as vacant and unconscious as ever mortal
looked. Arthur Gride, after peering nervously about him,
spied it on the ground, picked it up, and sitting down to
write, glanced at Newman Noggs, who was staring at the
wall with an intensity so remarkable that Arthur was quite
alarmed.

“ Do you see anything particular, Mr. Noggs?” said
Arthur, trying to follow the direction of Newman’s eyes —
which was an impossibility and a thing no man had ever
done.

“ Only a cobweb.”

“ Oh, is that all ? ”

“ No. There’s a fly in it,”

“ There are a good many cobwebs here.”

“ So there are in our place, and flies too.”

462

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Newman appeared to derive great entertainment from this
repartee, and to the great discomposure of Arthur Gride’s
nerves produced a series of sharp cracks from his finger
joints, resembling the noise of a distant discharge of small
artillery. Arthur succeeded in finishing his reply to Ralph’s
note, nevertheless, and at length handed it over to the eccen¬
tric messenger for delivery.

“That’s it, Mr. Noggs.”

Newman gave a nod, put it in his hat, and was shuffling
away when Gride, whose doting delight knew no bounds,
beckoned him back again and said in a shrill whisper and
with a grin which puckered up his whole face and almost
obscured his eyes:

“ Will you — will you take a little drop of something —
just a taste? ”

In good fellowship (if Arthur Gride had been capable of
it) Newman would not have drunk with him one bubble of
the richest wine that was ever made ; but to see what he would
do and to punish him as much as he could, he accepted the
offer immediately.

Arthur Gride, therefore, from a shelf laden with drinking
glasses and quaint bottles, took down one dusty bottle of
promising appearance and two glasses of curiously small size.

“ You never tasted this,” said Arthur. “ It’s eau d’or —
golden water. I like it on account of its name. It’s a
delicious name. Water of gold, golden water! 0 dear me,
it seems quite a sin to drink it! ”

As his courage appeared to be fast failing him, and he
trifled with the stopper in a manner which threatened the
dismissal of the bottle to its old place, Newman took up
one of the little glasses and clinked it twice and thrice against
the bottle, as a gentle reminder that he had not been helped
yet. With a deep sigh, Arthur Gride slowly filled it —
though not to the brim — and then filled his own.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

463

“ Stop, stop. Don’t drink it yet,” he said, laying his hand
on Newman’s; “it was given to me twenty years ago, and
when I take a little taste, which is ve — ry seldom, I like to
think of it beforehand and teaze myself. We’ll drink a
toast. Shall we drink a toast, Mr. Noggs?”

“Ah! ” said Newman, eyeing his little glass impatiently.
“ Look sharp. Bearer waits.”

“ Why, then, I’ll tell you what,” tittered Arthur, “ we’ll
drink — he, he, he ! — we’ll drink a lady.”

“The ladies?”

“ No, no, Mr. Noggs, a lady. You wonder to hear me
say a ‘ lady.’ I know you do, I know you do. Here’s little
Madeline. That’s the toast, Mr. Noggs, Little Madeline! ”

“ Madeline,” said Newman, inwardly adding, “ and God
help her! ”

The rapidity and unconcern with which Newman dismissed
his portion of the golden water had a great effect upon the
old man, who sat upright in his chair and gazed at him open-
mouthed, as if the sight had taken away his breath. Quite
unmoved, however, Newman left him to sip his own at
leisure or to pour it back again into the bottle, if he chose,
and departed; after greatly outraging the dignity of Peg
Sliderskew by brushing past her in the passage without a
word of apology or recognition.

Mr. Gride and his housekeeper immediately on being left
alone resolved themselves into a committee of ways and
means and discussed the arrangements which should be made
for the reception of the young bride.

“ You’ve been a long time,” said Ralph when Newman
returned.

“ He was a long time,” replied Newman.

“ Bah ! Give me his note, if he gave you one ; his message,
if he didn’t. And don’t go away. I want a word with you,
sir.”

464

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Newman handed in the note and looked very virtuous and
» innocent while his employer broke the seal, and glanced his
eye over it.

“ He’ll be sure to come ! ” muttered Ralph, as he tore it
to pieces; “why, of course, I know he’ll be sure to come.
What need to say that? Noggs! Pray, sir, what man was
that with whom I saw you in the street last night? ”

“ I don’t know.”

“ You had better refresh your memory, sir.”

“ I tell you that I don’t know. He came here twice and
asked for you. You were out. He came again. You
packed him off yourself. He gave the name of Brooker.”

“ I know he did. What then ? ”

“ What then? Why, then he lurked about and dogged me
in the street. He follows me night after night and urges me
to bring him face to face with you; as he says he has been
once and not long ago either. He wants to see you face to
face, he says, and you’ll soon hear him out, he warrants.”

“ And what said you to that? ”

“ That it’s no business of mine, and I won’t. I told him
he might catch you in the street, if that was all he wanted.
But no. That wouldn’t do. You wouldn’t hear a word there,
he said. He must have you alone in a room with the door
locked, where he could speak without fear, and you’d soon
change your tone and hear him patiently.”

“ An audacious dog! ” Ralph muttered.

“ That’s all I know, I say again. I don’t know what man
he is. I don’t believe he knows himself . You have seen him;
perhaps you do.”

“ I think I do.”

“Well,” retorted Newman, sulkily, “don’t expect me to
know him, too; that’s all. You’ll ask me, next, why I never
told you this before. What would you say if I was to tell
you all the people say of you ? What do you call me when I
sometimes do ? * Brute, ass ! / and snap at me like a dragon.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 465

This was true enough, though the question which Newman
anticipated was, in fact, upon Ralph’s lips at the moment.

He is an idle ruffian,” said Ralph; “ a vagabond from
beyond the sea where he travelled for his crimes; a felon let
loose to run his neck into the halter; a swindler who has the
audacity to try his schemes on me who know him well. The
next time he tampers with you, hand him over to the police
for attempting to extort money by lies and threats, — d’ye
hear ? — and leave the rest to me. — He shall cool his heels in
jail a little time, and I’ll be bound he looks for other folks to
fleece when he comes out. You mind what I say, do you? ”

“ I hear.”

Do it, then, and I’ll reward you. Now you may go.”

Newman readily availed himself of the permission, and,
shutting himself up in his little office, remained there in very
serious cogitation all day. When he was released at night,
he proceeded with all the expedition he could use to the
City, and took up a position to watch for Nicholas. For
Newman Noggs was proud in his way, and could not bear
to appear before the Brothers Cheeryble in the shabby and
degraded state to which he was reduced.

I^e had not occupied this position many minutes when he
was rejoiced to see Nicholas approaching, and darted out
to meet him. Nicholas was no less pleased to encounter his
friend, whom he had not seen for some time.

“ I was thinking of you at that moment,” said Nicholas.

“ That’s right, and I of you. I couldn’t help coming up
tonight. Isay! I think I’m going to find out something.”

“ And what may that be? ” returned Nicholas, smiling at
this odd communication.

“ I don’t know what it may be, I don’t know what it may
not be; it’s some secret in which your uncle is concerned, but
what, I’ve not yet been able to discover, although I have
my strong suspicions. I’ll not hint ’em now, in case you
should be disappointed.”

466 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I disappointed! Am I interested? ”

“ I think you are. I have a notion in my head that it
must be so. I have found out a man who plainly knows
more than he cares to tell at once. And he has already
dropped hints that puzzle me — I say, that puzzle me.”
Nicholas endeavoured by a series of questions to discover
the cause, but in vain. Newman could not be drawn into
any more explicit statement than a repetition of the perplexi¬
ties he had already thrown out, and a confused oration,
showing how it was necessary to use the utmost caution ;
how the lynx-eyed Ralph had already seen him in company
with his unknown correspondent; and how he had baffled
the said Ralph by extreme guardedness of manner and in¬
genuity of speech.

“ And that reminds me,” said Newman, “ that you never
told me the young lady’s real name, whose address we could
not obtain that time and whom you were so anxious to
find.”

“ Madeline! ”

“Madeline!” cried Newman. “What Madeline? Her
other name. Say her other name.”

“Bray,” said Nicholas in great astonishment.

“ It’s the same! ” cried Newman. “ Sad story! Can you
stand idly by and let that unnatural marriage take place
without one attempt to save her? ”

“What do you mean?” exclaimed Nicholas, starting up.
“ Marriage! Are you crazy? ”

“Are you? Is she? Are you blind, deaf, senseless,
dead? ” said Newman. “ Do you know that within one day,
by means of your uncle Ralph, she will be married to a man
as bad as he, and worse, if worse there is? Do you know
that, within one day, she will be sacrificed, as sure as you
stand there alive, to a hoary wretch — a devil born and bred,
and grey in devil’s ways ? ”

467

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“Be careful what you say, for heaven’s sake be careful!
I am left here alone and those who could stretch out a hand
to rescue her, the Cheeryble Brothers, are far away on busi¬
ness. What is it that you mean? ”

“ I never heard her name,” said Newman, choking with his
energy. “ Why didn’t you tell me? How was I to know?
We might, at least, have had some time to think! ”

“ What is it that you mean? ” cried Nicholas.

It was not easy to arrive at this information; but after a
great quantity of extraordinary pantomime, which in no way
assisted it, Nicholas, who was almost as wild as Newman
Noggs himself, forced the latter down upon his -seat and
held him down until he began his tale.

Rage, astonishment, indignation, and a storm of passions
rushed through the listener’s heart, as the plot was laid bare.
He no sooner understood it all than with a face of ashy
paleness, and trembling in every limb, he darted from the
place.

“ Stop him ! ” cried Newman, bolting out in pursuit.
“He’ll be doing something desperate; he’ll murder some¬
body. Hallo! there, stop him. Stop thief! stop thief! ”

Finding that Newman was determined to stop him,
Nicholas soon slackened his pace and allowed Newman Noggs
to come up with him: which he did, in so breathless a con¬
dition that it seemed impossible he could have held out for a
minute longer.

“ I will go straight to Bray’s,” said Nicholas. “ I will see
this man. If there is a feeling of humanity lingering in his
breast, a spark of consideration for his own child, motherless
and friendless as she is, I will awaken it.”

“ You will not, you will not, indeed.”

“ Then,” said Nicholas, pressing onward, “ I will act upon
my first impulse, and go straight to Ralph Nickleby.”

“ By the time you reach his house he will be in bed.”

468

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I’ll drag him from it.”

“ Tut, tut, be yourself.”

“ You are the best of friends to me, Newman,” rejoined
Nicholas, after a pause, and taking his hand as he spoke. “ I
have made head against many trials; but the misery of an¬
other, and such misery, is involved in this one that I declare
to you I am rendered desperate and know not how to act.”

In truth, it did seem a hopeless case. It was impossible to
make any use of such intelligence as Newman Noggs had
gleaned when he lay concealed in the closet.

“ There seems no ray of hope,” said Nicholas.

“ The greater necessity for coolness, for reason, for con¬
sideration, for thought,” said Newman, pausing at every
alternate word to look anxiously in his friend’s face. “ Where
are the brothers ? ”

“ Both absent on urgent business, as they will be for a
week to come.”

“ Is there no way of communicating with them? No way
of getting one of them here by tomorrow night ? ”

“ Impossible ! The sea is between us and them. With
the fairest winds that ever blew, to go and return would take
three days and nights.”

“ Their nephew,” said Newman, “ their old clerk.”

“ What could either do that I cannot? ” rejoined Nicholas.
“ With reference to them especially, I am enjoined to the
strictest silence on this subject. What right have I to
betray the confidence reposed in me when nothing but a
miracle can prevent this sacrifice ? ”

“ Think,” urged Newman. “ Is there no way? ”

“ There is none,” said Nicholas, in utter dejection. “ Not
one. The father urges; the daughter consents. These demons
have her in their toils; legal right, might, power, money,
and every influence are on their side. How can I hope to
save her? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

469

“Hope to the last! ” said Newman, clapping him on the
back; “always hope, that’s a dear boy. Never leave off
hoping; it don’t answer. Do you mind me, Nick? It don’t
answer. Don’t leave a stone unturned. It’s always some¬
thing to know you’ve done the most you could. But don’t
leave off hoping, or it’s of no use doing anything. Hope,
hope, to the last! ”

“ You read me a good lesson, Newman, and I will profit
by it. One step, at least, I may take — am bound to take
indeed — and to that I will apply myself tomorrow.”

“What is that? Not to threaten Ralph? Not to see
the father?”

“ To see the daughter, Newman. To do what, after all,
is the utmost that the brothers could do, if they were here;
to reason with her upon this hideous union, to point out to
her all the horrors to which she is hastening; rashly, it may
be, and without due reflection. To entreat her, at least, to
pause. She can have no counsellor for her good. Perhaps
even I may move her so far yet, though it is the eleventh
hour, and she upon the very brink of ruin.”

“Bravely spoken! Well done, well done! Yes. Very
good.”

“And I do declare,” cried Nicholas, with honest enthusi¬
asm, “ that in this effort I am influenced by no selfish or
personal considerations, but by pity for her and detestation
and abhorrence of this scheme; and that I would do the
Same, were there twenty rivals in the field and I the last
and least favoured of them all.” •

“You would, I believe. But where are you hurrying
now ? ”

“ Homewards. Do you come with me, or shall I say good
night ? ”

“ I’ll come a little way, if you will but walk, not run.”

“I cannot walk tonight, Newman; I must move rapidly,

470

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

or I could not draw my breath. Fll tell you what I’ve said
and done tomorrow.”

Without waiting for a reply, he darted off at a rapid pace
and, plunging into the crowds which thronged the street, was
quickly lost to view.

“ He’s a violent youth at times,” said Newman, looking
after him, “ and yet I like him for it. There’s cause enough
now, or the deuce is in it. Hope! I said hope, I think!
Ralph Nickleby and Gride with their heads together! And
hope for the opposite party ! Ho, ho ! ”

It was with a very melancholy laugh that Newman Noggs
concluded this soliloquy; and it was with a very melancholy
shake of the head and a very rueful countenance that he
turned about and went plodding on his way.

CHAPTER XXXV

NICHOLAS started at dawn of day from the restless
couch which no sleep had visited on the previous night
and prepared to make that last appeal. A hasty breakfast
taken and such affairs of business that required prompt at¬
tention disposed of, he directed his steps to the residence
of Madeline Bray, whither he lost no time in arriving.

Coming to the door of the house, he found it had been left
ajar — probably by the last person who had gone out. The
occasion was not one upon which to observe the nicest cere¬
mony ; therefore, availing himself of this advantage, Nicholas
walked gently upstairs and knocked at the door of the room
into which he had been accustomed to be shown. Receiv¬
ing permission to enter from some person on the other side,
he opened the door and walked in.

Bray and his daughter were sitting there alone. It was
nearly three weeks since he had last seen her, but there was

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

471

a change in the lovely girl which told Nicholas how much
mental suffering had been compressed into that short time.

The father sat opposite to her, not looking directly in her
face, but glancing at her as he talked, with a gay air which
ill disguised the anxiety of his thoughts. The drawing ma¬
terials were not on their accustomed table, nor were any of
the other tokens of her usual occupation to be seen. The
little vases which Nicholas had always seen filled with fresh
flowers were empty, or supplied only with a few withered
stalks and leaves. The bird was silent. The cloth that
covered his cage at night was not removed. His mistress
had forgotten him.

There are times when, the mind being painfully alive to
receive impressions, a great deal may be noted at a glance.
This- was one, for Nicholas had but glanced round him when
he was recognised by Mr. Bray, who said impatiently:

“ Now, sir, what do you want? Name your errand here,
quickly, for my daughter and I are busily engaged with more
important matters than those you come about. Come, sir,
address yourself to your business at once.”

Nicholas could very well discern that the irritability and
impatience of this speech were assumed and that Bray, in
his heart, was rejoiced at any interruption which promised
to engage the attention of his daughter. He bent his eyes
involuntarily upon the father as he spoke and marked his
uneasiness; for he coloured and turned his head away.

The device, however, so far as it was a device for causing
Madeline to interfere, was successful. She rose and, advanc¬
ing towards Nicholas, paused half-way and stretched out her
hand as if expecting a letter.

“ Madeline,” said her father impatiently, “ my love, what
are you doing ? ”

“ Miss Bray expects an inclosure, perhaps. My employer
is absent from England, or I should have brought a letter

472

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

with me. I hope she will give me time — a little time. I
ask a very little time.”

“ If that is all you come about, sir, you may make yourself
easy on that head. Madeline, my dear, I didn’t know this
person was in your debt ? ”

“ A — a trifle, I believe.”

“ I suppose you think now,” said Bray, wheeling his chair
round and confronting Nicholas, “ that but for such pitiful
sums as you bring here, because my daughter has chosen to
employ her time as she has, we should starve ? ”

“ I have not thought about it.”

“You have not thought about it! You know you have
thought about it, and have thought that, and think so every
time you come here. Do you suppose, young man, that I
don’t know what little purse-proud tradesmen are, when,
through some fortunate circumstances, they get the upper
hand for a brief day — or think they get the upper hand
— of a gentleman ? ”

“ My business is with the lady.”

“ With a gentleman’s daughter, sir, and the pettifogging
spirit is the same. But perhaps you bring orders, eh? Have
you any fresh orders for my daughter, sir? ”

Nicholas understood the tone of triumph in which this
question was put ; but remembering the necessity of support¬
ing his assumed character, produced a scrap of paper pur¬
porting to contain a list of some subjects for drawings which
his employer desired to have executed and with which he had
prepared himself in case of any such contingency.

“ Oh ! These are the orders, are they ? ”

“ Since you insist upon the terms, sir, yes.”

“ Then you may tell your master,” said Bray, tossing the
paper back again, with an exulting smile, “ that my daughter,
Miss Madeline Bray, condescends to employ herself no longer
in such labours as these; that she is not at his beck and call,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

473

as he supposes her to be; that we don’t live upon his money,
as he flatters himself we do; that he may give whatever he
owes us to the first beggar who passes his shop, or add it to
his own profits next time he calculates them; and that he
may go to the devil, for me. That’s my acknowledgment
of his orders, sir! ”

“ And this is the independence of a man who sells his
daughter as he has sold that weeping girl! ” thought Nicholas.

The father was too much absorbed with his own exultation
r,o mark the look of scorn which, for an instant, Nicholas
could not suppress. He continued after a short silence,
“ You have your message and can retire — unless you have
any further — ha! ^-any further orders.”

“ I have none, nor, in consideration of the station you once
held, have I used that or any other word which could be sup¬
posed to imply authority on my part or dependence on yours.
I have no orders, but I have fears — fears that I will express,
chafe as you may — fears that you may be consigning that
young lady to something worse than supporting you by the
labour of her hands, had she worked herself dead. These are
my fears, and these fears I found upon your own demeanour.
Your conscience will tell you, sir, whether I construe it well
or not.”

“ For heaven’s sake! ” cried Madeline, interposing in alarm
between them. “ Remember, sir, he is ill.”

“ Ill! ” cried the invalid, gasping and catching for breath.
“ Ill ! Ill ! I am bearded and bullied by a shopboy, and
she beseeches him to pity me and remember I am ill ! ”

He fell into a paroxysm of his disorder, so violent that
for a few moments Nicholas was alarmed for his life; but
finding that he began to recover, he withdrew, after signifying
by a gesture to the young lady that he had something im¬
portant to communicate and would wait for her outside the
room. He pould hear that the sick man came gradually but

474

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

slowly to himself and that, without any reference to what
had just occurred, as though he had no distinct recollection
of it, as yet, he requested to be left alone.

“ You are charged with some commission to me, sir,” said
Madeline, presenting herself in great agitation. “ Do not
press it now, I beg and pray you. The day after tomorrow,
come here then.”

“ It will be too late — too late for what I have to say, and
you will not be here. Oh, madam, if you have but one thought
of him who sent me here, but one last lingering care for your
own peace of mind and heart, I do, for God’s sake, urge you
to give me a hearing.”

She attempted to pass him, but Nicholas gently detained
her.

“ A hearing, I ask you but to hear me; not me alone, but
him for whom I speak, who is far away and does not know
your danger. In the name of heaven hear me! ”

The poor attendant with her eyes swollen and red with
weeping stood near. To her Nicholas appealed in such
passionate terms that she opened a side door and, supporting
her mistress into an adjoining room, beckoned Nicholas to
follow them.

“ Leave me, please,” said the young lady.

“ I cannot, will not, leave you. I have a duty to discharge ;
and either here, or in the room from which we have just now
come, at whatever risk or hazard to Mr. Bray, I must beseech
you to contemplate again the fearful course to which you have
been impelled.”

“ What course is this you speak of, and impelled by whom,
sir?” demanded the young lady, with an effort to speak
proudly.

“ I speak of this marriage ; of this marriage, fixed for
tomorrow, by one who never faltered in a bad purpose or
lent his aid to any good design ; of this marriage, the history

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 475

of which is known to me better than it is to you. I know
what web is wound about you. I know what men they are
from whom these schemes have come. You are betrayed and
sold for money ; for gold whose every coin is rusted with tears,
if not red with the blood of ruined men.”

“ You say you have a duty to discharge, and so have I.
And with the help of heaven I will perform mine,” said
Madeline firmly.

“ Say rather with the help of devils, one of them your

destined husband who - ”

“ I must not hear such talk. This evil, if evil it be, has
been of my own seeking. I am impelled to this course by
no one, but follow it of my own free will. You see I am not
constrained or forced. Report this to my dear friend and
benefactor, and, taking with you my prayers and thanks for
him and yourself, leave me for ever! ”

“ Not until I have besought you with all earnestness to
postpone this marriage for one short week. Not until- I
have besought you to think more deeply than you can have
done, influenced as you are, upon the step you are about to
take. Although you cannot be fully conscious of the villainy
of this man to whom you are about to give your hand, some
of his deeds you know. You have heard him speak and
have looked upon his face. Reflect, reflect before it is too
late. Shrink from the loathsome companionship of this
wretch as you would from corruption and disease. Suffer
toil and labour if you will, but shun him, shun him, and be
happy. For believe me, I speak the truth; the most abject
poverty, the most wretched condition of human life, with a
pure and upright mind, would be happiness to that which
you must undergo as the wife of such a man as this! ”
Long before Nicholas ceased to speak, the young lady
buried her face in her hands and gave her tears free way.
In a voice at first inarticulate with emotion, but gradually

476 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

recovering strength as she proceeded, she answered him:

“ I will not disguise from you — though perhaps I ought
— that I have undergone great pain of mind and have been
nearly broken-hearted since I saw you last. I do not love
this gentleman. The difference between our ages, tastes,
and habits forbids it. This he knows, and knowing, still
offers me his hand. By accepting it and by that step alone,
I can release my father, who is dying in this place; prolong
his life, perhaps, for many years. I have passed my word and
should rejoice, not weep, that it is so. I do. The . interest
you take in one so friendless and forlorn as I, the delicacy
with which you have discharged your trust, the faith you
have kept with me, have my warmest thanks and, while I
make this last feeble acknowledgment, move me to tears, as
you see. But I do not repent, nor am I unhappy. I am
happy in the prospect of all I can achieve, so easily. I shall
be more so when I look back upon it, and all is done, I know.”

“ Your tears fall faster as you talk of happiness,” said
Nicholas, “ and you shun the contemplation of that dark
future which must be laden with so much misery to you.
Defer this marriage for a week. For but one week! ”

“ He was talking, when you came upon us just now, with
such smiles as I remember to have seen of old, and have not
seen for many and many a day, of the freedom that was to
come tomorrow,” said Madeline, with momentary firmness,
“ of the welcome change, the fresh air, all the new scenes and
objects that would bring fresh life to his exhausted frame.
His eye grew bright, and his face lighted at the thought. I
will not defer it for an hour.”

“ These are but tricks and wiles to urge you on,” cried
Nicholas.

“ Ill hear no more,” said Madeline, hurriedly. “ I have
heard too much — more than I should — already. What I
have said to you I have said as to that dear friend to whom

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

477

I trust in you honourably to repeat it. Sometime in the
future, when I am more composed and reconciled to my new
mode of life, if I should live so long, I will write to him.
Meantime, all holy angels shower blessings on his head and
prosper and preserve him.”

She was hurrying past Nicholas, when he threw himself
before her and emplored her to think but once again upon
the fate to which she was hastening.

“ There is no retreat,” said Nicholas, in an agony of sup¬
plication, “ no withdrawing ! All regret will be unavailing,
and deep and bitter it must be. What can I say that will
induce you to pause at this last moment! What can I do
to save you! ”

“ Nothing,” she incoherently replied. “ This is the hardest
trial I have had. Have mercy on me, sir, I beseech, and do
not pierce my heart with such appeals as these. I — I hear
him calling. I — I must not, will not, remain here for another
instant.”

“ If this were a plot,” said Nicholas, with the same violent
rapidity with which she spoke, “ a plot, not yet laid bare
by me, but which with time I might unravel; if you were
entitled to fortune of your own which would do all that this
marriage can accomplish, would you not retract ? ”

“No, no, no! It is impossible. It is a child’s tale. Time
would bring his death. He is calling again! ”

“ It may be the last time we shall ever meet on earth,”
said Nicholas; “ it may be better for me that we should never
meet more.”

“ For both, for both,” replied Madeline, not heeding what
she said. “ The time will come when to recall the memory
of this one interview might drive me mad. Be sure to tell
them that you left me calm and happy. And God be with
you, sir, and my grateful heart and blessing! ”

She was gone. Nicholas, staggering from the house,

478

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

thought of the hurried scene which had just closed upon him,
as if it were some wild, unquiet dream. The day wore on,
until at night, having been enabled in some measure to collect
his thoughts, he issued forth again.

That night, being the last of Arthur Gride’s bachelorship,
found him in tip-top spirits and great glee. The bottle-
green suit had been brushed, ready for the morrow. Peg
Sliderskew had rendered the accounts of her past house¬
keeping; the eighteenpence had been rigidly accounted for
(she was never trusted with a larger sum at once, and the
accounts were not usually balanced more than twice a day) ;
every preparation had been made for the coming festival;
and Arthur might have sat down and contemplated his ap¬
proaching happiness, but that he preferred sitting down and
contemplating the entries in a dirty old vellum book with rusty
clasps.

“ Well-a-day! ” he chuckled, as, sinking on his knees before
a strong chest screwed down to the floor, he thrust in his
arm nearly up to the shoulder and slowly drew forth this'
greasy volume, “ Well-a-day now, this is all my library, but
it’s one of the most entertaining books that were ever written !
It’s a delightful book, and all true and real — that’s the best
of it — true as the Bank of England, and real as its gold and
silver. Written by Arthur Gride. He, he, he! None of
your story-book writers will ever make as good a book as this,
I warrant me. It’s composed for private circulation, for my
own particular reading, and nobody else’s. He, he, he! ”

Muttering this soliloquy, Arthur carried his precious
volume to the table and, adjusting it upon a dusty desk, put
on his spectacles and began to pore among the leaves.

“ It’s a large sum to Mr. Nickleby,” he said in a dolorous
voice. “ Debt to be paid in full, nine hundred and seventy-
five, four, three. Additional sum as per bond, five hundred.
One thousand, four hundred and seventy-five pounds, four

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

479

shillings, and threepence, tomorrow at twelve o’clock. On
the other side, though, there’s per contra, by means of this
pretty chick. But, again, there’s the question whether I
mightn’t have brought all this about, myself. ‘ Faint heart
never won fair lady.’ Why was my heart so faint? Why
didn’t I boldly open it to Bray myself and save one thousand
four hundred and seventy-five, four, three! ”

These reflections depressed the old usurer so much as to
wring a feeble groan or two from his breast, and cause him
to declare, with uplifted hands, that he would die in a work-
house. Remembering on further cogitation, however, that
under any circumstances he must have paid, and being by
no means confident that he would have succeeded had he
undertaken his enterprise alone, he regained his equanimity,
and chattered and mowed over more satisfactory items, until
the entrance of Peg Sliderskew interrupted him.

“ Aha, Peg ! What is it ? What is it now, Peg ? ”

“ It’s the fowl,” replied Peg, holding up a plate containing
a little, a very little one; quite a phenomenon of a fowl, so
very small and skinny.

“ A beautiful bird! ” said Arthur, after inquiring the price
and finding it proportionate to the size. “With a rasher
of ham, and an egg made into sauce, and potatoes, and greens,
and an apple pudding, Peg, and a little bit of cheese, we shall
have dinner for an emperor. There’ll only be she and me
— and you, Peg, when we’ve done.”

“ Don’t you complain of the expense afterwards,” said Mrs.
Sliderskew, sulkily.

“ I’m afraid we must live expensively for the first week,”
returned Arthur, with a groan, “ and then we must make up
for it. I won’t eat more than I can help, and I know you
love your old master too much to eat more than you can
help, don’t you, Peg ? ”

“ Don’t I what ? ”

480

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Love your old master too much - ”

No, not a bit too much.”

“ Oh dear, I wish the devil had this woman! Love him
too much to eat more than you can help at his expense.

“ At his what ? ”

“ Oh dear ! She can never hear the most important words,
and hears all the others ! At his expense — you catamaran !

The last-mentioned tribute to the charms of Mrs. Slider-
skew, being uttered in a whisper, that lady assented to the
general proposition by a harsh growl which was accompanied
by a ring at the street door.

“ There’s the bell,” said Arthur.

“ Ay, ay. I know that.”

“ Then why don’t you go? ” bawled Arthur.

“ Go where? I ain’t doing any harm here, am I? ”

Arthur Gride in reply repeated the word “ Bell ” as loud
as he could roar; and, his meaning being rendered further
intelligible to Mrs. Sliderskew’s dull sense of hearing, by
pantomime expressive of ringing at a street door, Peg
hobbled out after sharply demanding why he hadn’t said
there was a ring before instead of talking about all manner
of things that had nothing to do with it.

“ There’s a change come over you, Mrs. Peg,” said Arthur,
following her out with his eyes. “ What it means I don’t
quite know; but if it lasts, we shan’t agree together long, I
see. You are turning crazy, I think. If you are, you must
take yourself off, Mrs. Peg — or be taken off. All’s one to
me.” Turning over the leaves of his book as he muttered
this, he soon lighted upon something which attracted his
attention and forgot Peg Sliderskew and everything else in
the engrossing interest of its pages.

The room had no other light than that which it derived from
a dim and dirt-clogged lamp, whose lazy wick, being still
further obscured by a dark shade, cast its feeble rays over

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

481

a very little space and left all beyond in heavy shadow. This
lamp, the money lender had drawn close to him so that there
was only room between it and himself for the book over
which he bent. As he sat, with his elbows on the desk, and
his sharp cheek bones resting on his hands, the light of this
lamp only served to bring out his ugly features in strong
relief, — together with the little table at which he sat, and
to shroud all the rest of the room in a deep, sullen gloom.
Raising his eyes and looking vacantly into this gloom as he
made some mental calculation, Arthur Gride suddenly met
the fixed gaze of a man.

“ Thieves ! thieves ! ” shrieked the usurer, starting up and
folding his book to his breast. “Robbers! Murder! ”

“ What is the matter ? ” said the form, advancing.

“Keep off! ” cried the trembling wretch. “Is it a man
ora — a - ”

“ For what do you take me, if not for a man? ”

“ Yes, yes,” cried Arthur Gride, shading his eyes with his
hand, “ it is a man, and not a spirit. It is a man. Robbers !
Robbers! ”

“ For what are these cries raised unless, indeed, you know
me and have some purpose in your brain ? ” said the stranger,
coming close up to him. “ I am no thief.”

“ What then, and how come you here ? ” cried Gride, some¬
what reassured, but still retreating from his visitor; “ what
is your name, and what do you want ? ”

“My name you need not know; I came here, because I was
shown the way by your servant. I have addressed you
twice or thrice, but you were too profoundly engaged with
your book to hear me, and I have been silently waiting until
you should be less abstracted. What I want, I will tell you,
when you can summon up courage enough to hear and
understand me.”

Arthur Gride ventured to regard his visitor more atten-

482

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

tively and, perceiving that he was a yopng man of good mien
and bearing, returned to his seat, and muttering that there
were bad characters about, and that this, with former at¬
tempts upon his house, had made him nervous, requested his
visitor to sit down. However, he declined.

“ Good God! I don’t stand up to have you at an ad¬
vantage,” said Nicholas (for Nicholas it was), as he observed
a gesture of alarm on the part of Gride. “ Listen to me.
You are to be married tomorrow morning.”

“ N — n — no. Who said I was? How do you know
that? ”

“ No matter how, I know it. The young lady who is to
give you her hand hates you. Her blood runs cold at the
mention of your name. The vulture and the lamb, the rat
and the dove could not be worse matched than you and she.
You see I know her.”

Gride looked at him as if he were petrified with astonish¬
ment, but did not speak, perhaps lacking the power.

“ You and another main, Ralph Nickleby by name, have
hatched this plot between you. You pay him for his share
in bringing about this sale of Madeline Bray. You do. A
lie is trembling on your lips, I see.”

He paused, but, Arthur making no reply, resumed again.

“ You pay yourself by defrauding her. How or by what
means — for I scorn to sully her cause by falsehood or deceit
— I do not know; at present I do not know, but I am not alone
or single-handed in this business. If the energy of man can
compass the discovery of your fraud and treachery before
your death; if wealth, revenge, and just hatred can hunt and
track you through your windings, you will yet be called to a
dear account for this. We are on the scent already ; judge you,
who know what we do not, when we shall have you down! ”

He paused again, and still Arthur Gride glared upon him
in silence.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

483

“ If you were a man to whom I could appeal with any
hope of touching his compassion or humanity, I would urge
upon you to remember the helplessness, the innocence, the
youth of this lady; her worth and beauty, her filial excellence,
and last, and more than all as concerning you more nearly,
the appeal she has made to your mercy and your manly
feeling. But I take the only ground that can be taken with
men like you and ask what money will buy you off. Remem¬
ber the danger to which you are exposed. You see I know
enough to know much more with very little help. Bate some
expected gain, for the risk you save, and say what is your
price.”

Old Arthur Gride moved his lips, but they only formed an
ugly smile and were motionless again.

“ You think that the price would not be paid. Miss
Bray has wealthy friends who would coin their very hearts
to save her in such a strait as this. Name your price,
defer these nuptials for but a few days, and see whether
those I speak of shrink from the payment. Do you hear
me? ”

When Nicholas began, Arthur Gride’s impression was that
Ralph Nickleby had betrayed him; but as he proceeded, he
felt convinced that, however he had come by the knowledge
he possessed, the part he acted was a genuine one and that
with Ralph he had no concern. All he seemed to know for
certain was that he, Gride, paid Ralph’s debt. As to the
fraud on Madeline herself his visitor knew so little about
its nature that it might be a lucky guess. Whether or no,
he had clearly no key to the mystery and could not hurt
him who kept it close within his own breast. The allusion
to friends and the offer of money Gride held to be mere empty
vapouring, for purposes of delay. “ And even if money were
to be had,” thought Arthur Gride, as he glanced at Nicholas
and trembled with passion at his boldness and audacity,

484

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I’d have that dainty chick for my wife and cheat you of her,
young smooth face! ”

As Nicholas went on, he followed him closely with his own
constructions and, when he ceased to speak, was as well pre¬
pared as if he had deliberated for a fortnight.

“ I hear you,” he cried, starting from his seat, casting back
the fastenings on the window shutters, and throwing up the
sash. “ Help here ! Help ! Help ! ”

“ What are you doing! ” said Nicholas, seizing him by the
arm.

“ I’ll cry robbers, thieves, murder, alarm the neighbour¬
hood, struggle with you, let loose some blood, and swear you
came to rob me if you don’t quit my house,” replied Gride,
drawing in his head with a frightful grin, “ I will ! ”

“ Wretch! ”

“You’ll bring your threats here, will you?” said Gride,
whom jealousy of Nicholas and sense of his own triumph had
converted into a perfect fiend. “ You, the disappointed lover.
Oh dear! He, he, he! But you shan’t have her, nor she
you. She’s my wife, my doting little wife. Do you think
she’ll miss you? Do you think she’ll weep? I shall like
to see her weep; I shan’t mind it. She looks prettier in
tears.”

“ Villain! ” said Nicholas, choking with his rage.

“ One minute more and I’ll rouse the street with such
screams that, if they were raised by anybody else, should
wake me even in the arms of pretty Madeline.”

“You hound!” said Nicholas. “If you were but a
younger man - ”

“ Oh yes ! ” sneered Arthur Gride, “ if I were but a younger
man, it wouldn’t be so bad; but for me, so old and ugly! To
be jilted by little Madeline for me ! ”

“ Hear me,” said Nicholas, “ and be thankful I have enough
command over myself not to fling you into the street, which

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

485'

no aid could prevent my doing if I once grappled with you.
I have been no lover of this lady’s. No contract or engage¬
ment, no word of love, has ever passed between us. She
does not even know my name.”

“ I’ll ask it for all that. I’ll beg it of her with kisses,” said
Arthur Gride. “ Yes, and she’ll tell me, and pay them
back, and we’ll laugh together, and hug ourselves, and be very
merry, when we think of the poor youth that wanted to have
her, but couldn’t because she was bespoke by me! ”

This taunt brought such an expression into the face of
Nicholas that Arthur Gride plainly apprehended it to be the
forerunner of his putting his threat of throwing him into the
street in immediate execution; for he thrust his head out of
the window and, holding tight on with both hands, raised a
pretty brisk alarm. Not thinking it necessary to abide the
issue of the noise, Nicholas gave vent to an indignant defiance
and stalked from the room and from the house. Arthur Gride
watched him across the street and then, drawing in his head,
fastened the window as before, and sat down to take breath.

“ If she ever turns pettish or ill-humoured, I’ll taunt her
with that spark; she’ll little think I know about him; and, if
I manage it well, I can break her spirit by this means and have
her under my thumb. I’m glad nobody came. I didn’t call
too loud. The audacity, to enter my house and open upon
me! But I shall have a very good triumph tomorrow, and
he’ll be gnawing his fingers off; perhaps drown himself, or
cut his throat; I shouldn’t wonder! That would make it
quite complete, that would. Quite.”

When he had become restored to his usual condition by
these and other comments on his approaching triumph,
Arthur Gride put away his book and, having locked the chest
with great caution, descended into the kitchen to warn Peg
Sliderskew to bed and scold her for having afforded such
ready admission to a stranger.

486

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

The unconscious Peg, however, not being able to compre¬
hend the offence of which she had been guilty, he summoned
her to hold the light, while' he made a tour of the fastenings
and secured the street door with his own hands.

“ Top bolt,” muttered Arthur, fastening as he spoke,
“ bottom bolt, chain, bar, double lock, and key out to put
under my pillow! So, if any more rejected admirers come,
they may come through the keyhole. And now I’ll go to sleep
till half -past five, when I must get up to be married, Peg ! ”
With that, he jocularly tapped Mrs. Sliderskew under the
chin and appeared for the moment inclined to celebrate the
close of his bachelor days by imprinting a kiss on her
shrivelled lips. Thinking better of it, however, he gave her
chin another tap, in place of that warmer familiarity, and
stole away to bed.

CHAPTER XXXYI

THERE are not many men who lie abed too late or over¬
sleep on their wedding morning. Arthur Gride had
enrobed himself in his marriage garments of bottle green a
full hour before Mrs. Sliderskew knocked at his bedroom
door, and he had hobbled downstairs in full array and
smacked his lips over a scanty taste of his favourite cordial
before she entered the kitchen.

“ Faugh! ” said Peg, grubbing among a scanty heap of
ashes in the rusty grate. “Wedding, indeed! A precious
wedding! He wants somebody better than his old Peg to
take care of him, does he? And what has he said to me
many and many a time, to keep me content with short food,
small wages, and little fire ? ‘ My will, Peg ! My will ! ’
says he. ‘I’m a bachelor — no friends — no relations, Peg ! ’

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

487

Lies ! And now he’s to bring home a new mistress, a baby¬
faced girl! If he wanted a wife, the fool, why couldn’t he
have one suitable to his age and that knew his ways? She
won’t come in my way, he says. Ho, that she won’t; but
you little think why, Arthur, boy! ”

While Mrs. Sliderskew was giving loose to these grumblings
below stairs, Arthur Gride was cogitating in the parlour
upon what had taken place last night.

“ I can’t think how he can have picked up what he knows,
unless I have committed myself — let something drop at
Bray’s, for instance — which has been overheard. Perhaps
I may. I shouldn’t be surprised if that was it. Mr. Nickleby
was often angry at my talking to him before we got outside
of the door. I mustn’t tell him that part of the business,
or he’ll put me out of sorts, and make me nervous for the
day.”

To Ralph Nickleby’s, Arthur Gride now betook himself
according to appointment; and to Ralph Nickleby he related
how, last night, some young blustering blade whom he had
never seen forced his way into his house and tried to frighten
him from the proposed nuptials; told him, in short, what
Nicholas had said and done.

“ Well, and what then? ” said Ralph.

“ Oh! nothing more.”

“ He tried to frighten you, and you were frightened, I
suppose; is that it? ”

“ I frightened him by crying thieves and murder. Once I
was in earnest I tell you that, for I had half a mind to swear
he uttered threats and demanded my life or my money.”

“ Oho ! ” said Ralph, eyeing him askew. “ Jealous, too ! ”

“ Dear now, see that ! ” cried Arthur, rubbing his hands and
affecting to laugh.

“Why do you make those grimaces, man? You are
jealous — and with good cause I think.”

488

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ No, no, no; not with good cause, hey? You don’t think
with good cause, do you ? Do you, though, hey ? ”

“ Why, how stands the fact ? Here is an old man about
to be forced in marriage upon a girl; and to this old man
there comes a handsome young fellow — you said he was
handsome, didn’t you?”

“No! ” snarled Arthur Gride.

“Oh! I thought you did. Well! Handsome or not
handsome, to this old man there comes a young fellow who
casts all manner of fierce defiances in his teeth — gums I
should rather say — and tells him in plain terms that his
mistress hates him. What does he do that for? Philan¬
thropy’s sake ? ”

“ Not for love of the lady, for he said that no word of love
had ever passed between ’em,” said Arthur.

“He said!” repeated Ralph, contemptuously. “But I
like him for one thing, and that is his giving you this fair
warning to keep your — what is it ? — titbit or dainty chick
— which? — under lock and key. Be careful, Gride, be
careful. It’s a triumph, too, to tear her away from a gallant
young rival, a great triumph for an old man ! It only remains
to keep her safe when you have her — that’s all.”

“ What a man it is ! ” cried Arthur Gride, affecting in the
extremity of his torture to be highly amused. And then he
added anxiously, “ Yes, to keep her safe, that’s all. And
that isn’t much, is it ? ”

“Much! ” said Ralph, with a sneer. “Why, everybody
knows what an easy thing to understand and to control women
are. But come, it’s very nearly time for you to be made
happy. You’ll pay the bond now, I suppose, to save us
trouble afterwards.”

“ Oh, what a man you are ! ” croaked Arthur.

“ Why not? Nobody will pay you interest for the money,
I suppose, between this and twelve o’clock, will they ? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

489

“ But nobody would pay you interest for it either, you
know,” returned Arthur, leering at Ralph with all the cunning
and slyness he could throw into his face.

“ Besides which,” said Ralph, letting his lip curl into a smile,
“ you haven’t the money about you, and you weren’t prepared
for this, or you’d have brought it with you; and there’s no¬
body you’d so much like to accommodate as me. I see. We
trust each other in about an equal degree. Are you ready ? ”
Gride, who had done nothing but grin, and nod, and chatter
during this last speech of Ralph’s, answered in the affirmative
and, producing from his hat a couple of large white favours,
pinned one on his breast and with considerable difficulty
induced his friend to do the like. Then they got into a
hired coach which Ralph had in waiting and drove to the
residence of the fair and most wretched bride.

Gride, whose spirits and courage had gradually failed him
more and more as they approached nearer and nearer to the
house, was utterly dismayed and cowed by the mournful
silence which pervaded it. The face of the poor servant
girl, the only person they saw, was disfigured with tears and
want of sleep . There was nobody to receive or welcome them,
and they stole upstairs into the usual sitting room, more like
two burglars than the bridegroom and his friend.

“ One would think,” said Ralph, speaking in spite of him¬
self in a low and subdued voice, “ that there was a funeral
going on here and not a wedding.”

“ He, he! you are so — so very funny! ”

“ I need be, for this is rather dull and chilling. Look a
little brisker, man, and not so hangdog like ! ”

“ Yes, yes, I will, but — but — you don’t think she’s coming
just yet, do you ? ”

“ Why, I suppose she’ll not come till she is obliged,” re¬
turned Ralph, looking at his watch, “ and she has a good
half-hour to spare yet. Curb your impatience.”

490

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I — I — am not impatient; I wouldn’t be hard with her
for the world. Oh, dear, dear, not on any account. Let her take
her time — her own time. Her time shall be ours by all means.”

While Ralph bent upon his trembling friend a keen look,
which showed that he perfectly understood the reason for
this great consideration and regard, a footstep was heard
upon the stairs, and Bray himself came into the room on
tiptoe, holding up his hand with a cautious gesture as if there
were some sick person near who must not be disturbed.

“ Hush! ” he said, in a low voice. “ She was very ill last
night. I thought she would have broken her heart. She is
dressed and crying bitterly in her own room; but she’s better
and quite quiet. That’s everything! ”

“ She is ready, is she? ” said Ralph.

“ Quite ready.”

“ And not likely to delay us by any young-lady weaknesses
— fainting, or so forth? ” said Ralph.

“ She may be safely trusted now; I have been talking to
her this morning. Here, come a little this way.”

He drew Ralph Nickleby to the further end of the room
and pointed towards Gride, who sat huddled together in a
corner, fumbling nervously with the buttons of his coat
and exhibiting a face of which every skulking and base ex¬
pression was sharpened and aggravated to the utmost by
his anxiety and trepidation.

“ Look at that man,” whispered Bray, emphatically. “ This
seems a cruel thing, after all.”

“ What seems a cruel thing ? ” inquired Ralph, with as
much stolidity of face as if he really were in utter ignorance
of the other’s meaning.

“ This marriage. Don’t ask me what. You know as well
as I do.”

Ralph shrugged his shoulders in silent deprecation of
Bray’s impatience.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

491

“ Look at him. Does it not seem cruel? ” said Bray.

“ No,” replied Ralph boldly.

“ I say it does,” retorted Bray, with a show of much irrita¬
tion. “ It is a cruel thing, by all that’s bad and treacherous ! ”

“ You see what a dry, shrivelled, withered old chap it is,”
returned Ralph, when the other was at length silent. “ If
he were younger, it might be cruel, but as it is — harkee, Mr.
Bray, he’ll die soon and leave her a rich young widow ! Miss
Madeline consults your taste this time; let her consult her
own next.”

“ True, true,” said Bray, biting his nails and plainly very
ill at ease. “ I couldn’t do anything better for her than advise
her to accept these proposals, could I? Now I ask you,
Nickleby, as a man of the world, could I? ”

“ Surely not. I tell you what, sir; there are a hundred
fathers within a circuit of five miles from this place — well
off, good, rich, substantial men — who would gladly give
their daughters and their own ears with them to that very
man yonder, ape and mummy as he looks.”

“ So there are ! ” exclaimed Bray, eagerly catching at any¬
thing which seemed a justification of himself. “And so I
told her, both last night and today.”

“ You told her the truth, and did well to do so, though I
must say at the same time that, if I had a daughter, and my
freedom, pleasure, nay, my very health and life, depended
on her taking a husband whom I pointed out, I should hope
it would not be necessary to advance any other arguments
to induce her to consent to my wishes.”

Bray looked at Ralph, as if to see whether he spoke in
earnest and, having nodded twice or thrice in unqualified
assent to what had fallen from him, said:

“ I must go upstairs for a few minutes to finish dressing.
When I come down, I’ll bring Madeline with me. Do you
know I had a very strange dream last night which I have not

492

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

remembered till this instant? I dreamt that it was this
morning, and you and I had been talking, as we have been
this minute; that I went upstairs for the very purpose for
which I am going now ; and that as I stretched out my hand
to take Madeline’s and lead her down, the floor sank with
me and, after falling from such an indescribable and tre¬
mendous height as the imagination scarcely conceives except
in dreams, I alighted in a grave.”

“ And you awoke and found you were lying on your back,
or with your head hanging over the bedside, or suffering some
pain from indigestion?” said Ralph. “ Pshaw, Mr. Bray!
Do as I do (you will have the opportunity, now that a
constant round of pleasure and enjoyment opens upon you)
and, occupying yourself a little more by day, have no time
to think of what you dream by night.”

Ralph followed him, with a steady look, to the door.
Turning to the bridegroom when they were alone, he said:

“ Mark my words, Gride, you won’t have to pay his annuity
very long. You have the devil’s luck in bargains, always.
If he is not booked to make the long voyage before many
months are past and gone, I wear an orange for a head! ”

To this prophecy, so agreeable to his ears, Arthur returned
no other answer than a cackle of great delight. Ralph,
throwing himself into a chair, they both sat waiting in pro¬
found silence. Ralph was thinking, with a sneer upon his
lips, of the altered manner of Bray that day, and how soon
their fellowship in a bad design had lowered his pride and
established a familiarity between them, when his attentive
ear caught the rustling of a female dress upon the stairs and
the footsteps of a man.

“ Wake up! ” he said, stamping his foot impatiently upon
the ground, “ and be something like life, man, will you ?
They are here. Urge those dry old bones of yours this way.
Quick, man, quick! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

493

Gride shambled forward and stood, leering and bowing,
close by Ralph’s side, when the door opened and there entered
in haste — not Bray and his daughter, but Nicholas and his
sister Kate.

If some tremendous apparition from the world of shadows
had suddenly presented itself before him, Ralph Nickleby
could not have been more thunderstricken than he was by
this surprise. His hands fell powerless by his side; he reeled
back and with open mouth and a face of ashy paleness stood
gazing at them in speechless rage.

“ The man that came to me last night ! ” whispered Gride,
plucking at his elbow. “ The man that came to me last
night.”

“ I see,” muttered Ralph. “ I know. I might have guessed
as much before. Across my every path at every turn; go
where I will, do what I may, he comes! ”

As the brother and sister stood side by side, with a gallant
bearing which became them well, a close likeness between them
was apparent. The air, carriage, and very look and expres¬
sion of the brother were all reflected in the sister, but softened
and refined to the nicest limit of feminine delicacy and at¬
traction. More striking still was some indefinable resem¬
blance in the face of Ralph to both. While they had never
looked more handsome, nor he more ugly; while they had
never held themselves more proudly, nor he shrunk half so
low; there never had been a time when the resemblance was
so perceptible.

“ Awray ! ” was the first word he could utter, as he literally
gnashed his teeth. “ Away! What brings you here? Liar,
scoundrel, dastard, thief! ”

“ I come here,” said Nicholas in a low deep voice, “ to
save your victim if I can. Liar and scoundrel you are, in
every action of your life; theft is your trade; and double
dastard you must be, or you were not here today. Hard

494

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

words will not move me, nor would hard blows. Here I
stand, and will till I have done my errand.”

“ Girl ! ” said Rilph, “ retire ! We can use force to him,
but I would not hurt you if I could help it. Retire, you
weak and silly wench, and leave this dog to be dealt with as
he deserves.”

“ I will not retire,” cried Kate, with flashing eyes and the
red blood mantling in her cheeks. “ You will do him no
hurt that he will not repay. You may use force with me;
I think you will, for I am a girl, and that would well become
you. But if I have a girl’s weakness, I have a woman’s heart,
and it is not you who in a cause like this can turn that from
its purpose.”

“ And what may your purpose be, most lofty lady ? ” said
Ralph.

Nicholas replied, “ To offer to the unhappy subject of
your treachery at this last moment a refuge and a home.
If the near prospect of such a husband as you have provided
Will not prevail upon her, I hope she may be moved by the
prayers and entreaties of one of her own sex. At all events
they shall be tried. I myself will say to her father that
the Cheeryble brothers from whom I come and by whom I
am commissioned will render it an act of greater baseness,
meanness, and cruelty in him if he still dares to force this
marriage on. Here I wait to see him and his daughter.
For this I came and brought my sister even into your presence.
Our purpose is not to see or speak with you; therefore to
you we stoop to say no more.”

“ Indeed! ” said Ralph. “ You persist in remaining here,
ma’am, do you ? ”

His niece’s bosom heaved with the indignant excitement
into which he had lashed her, but she gave him no reply.

“ Now, Gride, see here,” said Ralph. “ This fellow (I
grieve to say, my brother’s son; a reprobate and profligate,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

495

stained with every mean and selfish crime), this fellow,
coming here today to disturb a solemn ceremony and, know¬
ing that the consequence of his presenting himself in another
man’s house at such a time, and persisting in remaining there,
must be his being kicked into the streets and dragged through
them like the vagabond he is — this fellow, mark you, brings
with him his sister as a protection, thinking we would not
expose a silly girl to the degradation and indignity which is
no novelty to him. And even after I have warned her of
what must ensue, he still keeps her by him, as you see, and
clings to her apron strings like a cowardly boy to his mother’s.
Isn’t this a pretty fellow to talk as big as you have heard him
now ? ”

“ And as I heard him last night, as I heard him last night,
when he sneaked into my house, and — he, he, he — very soon
sneaked out again, when I nearly frightened him to death.
And he wanting to marry Miss Madeline too! Oh, dear!
Is there anything else he’d like? Anything else we can do
for him, besides giving her up ? Would he like his debts paid
and his house furnished, and a few bank notes for shaving
paper — if he shaves at all ! He, he, he ! ”

“You will remain, girl, will you?” said Ralph, turning
upon Kate again, “ to be hauled downstairs like a drunken
drab, as I swear you shall if you stop here? No answer!
Thank your brother for what follows. Gride, call down
Bray — and not his daughter. Let them keep her above.”

“ If you value your head,” said Nicholas, taking up a
position before the door and speaking in the same low voice
in which he had spoken before, and with no more outward
passion than he had before displayed, “ stay where you
are! ”

“ Mind me, and not him, and call down Bray,” said Ralph.

“ Mind yourself rather than either of us, and stay where
you are! ” said Nicholas.

496

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Will you call down Bray? ” cried Ralph.

“ Remember that you come near me at your peril/’ said
Nicholas.

Gride hesitated. Ralph, being by this time as furious
as a baffled tiger, made for the door and, attempting to pass
Kate, clasped her arm roughly with his hand. Nicholas,
with his eyes darting fire, seized him by the collar. At that
moment, a heavy body fell with great violence on the floor
above and, in an instant afterwards, was heard a most appall¬
ing and terrific scream.

They all stood still, and gazed upon each other. Scream
succeeded scream. A heavy pattering of feet succeeded,
and many shrill voices clamouring together were heard to
cry, “ He is dead! ”

“ Stand off! ” cried Nicholas, letting loose all the passion
he had restrained till now, “ if this is what I scarcely dare
to hope it is, you are caught, villains, in your own toils.”

He burst from the room and, darting upstairs to the
quarter from which the noise proceeded, forced his way
through a crowd of persons who quite filled a small bedroom
and found Bray lying on the floor quite dead, his daughter
clinging to the body.

“ How did this happen?” he cried, looking wildly about
him.

Several voices answered together that Mr. Bray had been
observed through the half -opened door reclining in a strange
and uneasy position upon a chair; that he had been spoken
to several times and, not answering, was supposed to be
asleep, until some person going in and shaking him by the
arm, he fell heavily to the ground, and. was discovered to be
dead.

“ Who is the owner of this house? ” said Nicholas, hastily.

An elderly woman was pointed out to him ; and to her he
said, as he knelt down and gently unwound Madeline’s arms

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

497

from the lifeless mass round which they were entwined : “ I
represent this lady’s nearest friends, as her servant here
knows, and must remove her from this dreadful scene. This
is my sister to whose charge you confide her. My name and
address are upon that card, and you shall receive from me
all necessary directions for the arrangements that must be
made. Stand aside, every one of you, and give room and
air, for God’s sake! ”

The people fell back, scarce wondering more at what had
just occurred than at the excitement and impetuosity of him
who spoke. Nicholas, taking the insensible girl in his arms,
bore her from that apartment downstairs into the room he
had just left, followed by his sister and the faithful servant,
whom he charged to procure a coach directly, while he and
Kate bent over their beautiful charge and endeavoured, but
in vain, to restore her to animation. The girl performed
her office with such expedition that in a very few minutes
the coach was ready.

Ralph Nickleby and Gride, stunned and paralysed by the
awful event which had so suddenly overthrown their schemes,
and carried away by the extraordinary energy and precipi¬
tation of Nicholas, which bore down all before him, looked
on at these proceedings like men in a dream or trance. It
was not until every preparation was made for Madeline’s
immediate removal that Ralph broke silence by declaring
that she should not be taken away.

“ Who says so? ” cried Nicholas, rising from his knee and
confronting them, but still retaining Madeline’s lifeless hand
in his.

“ I ! ” answered Ralph, hoarsely.

“ Hush, hush ! ” cried the terrified Gride, catching him by
the arm again. “ Hear what he says.”

“ Ay ! ” said Nicholas, extending his disengaged hand in
the air, “hear what he says. That both your debts are paid

498

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

in the one great debt of nature. That the bond, due today
at twelve, is now waste paper. That your contemplated
fraud shall be discovered yet. That your schemes are known
to man, and overthrown by heaven. Wretches, that he
defies you both to do your worst ! ”

“ This man,” said Ralph, in a voice scarcely intelligible,
“this man claims his wife, and he shall have her.”

“ That man claims what is not his, and he should not have
her if he were fifty men, with fifty more to back him.”

“ Who shall prevent him ? ”

“ I will.”

“ By what right I should like to know, by what right I ask ? ”
“ By this right. That knowing what I do, you dare not
tempt me further, and by this better right : that those I serve
are her nearest and her dearest friends. In their name I take
her with us. Give wray! ”

“ One word! ” cried Ralph, foaming with rage.

“ Not one. I will not hear of one — save this. Look to
yourself, and heed this warning that I give you! Day is
past in your case, and night is coming on.”

“ My curse, my bitter, deadly curse, upon you, boy! ”

“ Whence will curses come at your command ? Or what
avails a curse or blessing from a man like you? I tell you
that misfortune and discovery are thickening about your
head; that the structures you have raised, through all your
ill-spent life, are crumbling into dust; that your path is
beset with spies; that this very day ten thousand pounds of
your hoarded wealth have gone in one great crash ! ”

• “ Tis false! ” cried Ralph, shrinking back.

“ Tis true, and you shall find it so. I have no more words
to waste. Stand from the door. Kate, do you go first. Lay
not a hand on her, or on "that woman, or on me, or so much
as brush their garments as they pass you by! — You let them
pass and he blocks the door again! ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

499

Arthur Gride happened to be in the doorway, but whether
intentionally or from confusion was not quite apparent.
Nicholas swung him away with such violence as to cause him
to spin round the room until he was caught by a sharp angle
of the wall and there knocked down. Nicholas then took his
beautiful burden in his arms and rushed out. No one cared
to stop him, if any were disposed. Making his way through
a mob of people, whom a report of the circumstances had at¬
tracted round the house, and carrying Madeline in his ex¬
citement as easily as if she were an infant, he reached the
coach in which Kate and the girl were already waiting and,
confiding his charge to them, jumped up beside the coachman
and bade him drive away.

CHAPTER XXXVII

WITH clenched hands and teeth ground together, Ralph
stood for some minutes, breathing heavily, but as
rigid and motionless as a brazen statue. After a time, he
began by slow degrees to relax. For a moment he shook his
clasped fist towards the door by which Nicholas had disap¬
peared, and then turned round and confronted the less hardy
usurer, who had not yet risen from the ground.

The cowering wretch, who still shook in every limb, tottered
to his feet as he met Ralph’s eye and, shielding his face with
both hands, protested, while he crept towards the door, that
it was no fault of his.

“ Who said it was, man ? ” returned Ralph, in a sup¬
pressed voice. “ Who said it was? ”

“ You looked as if you thought I was to blame,” said Gride,
timidly.

“Pshaw! ” Ralph muttered, forcing a laugh. “I blame

500

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

him for not living an hour longer. One hour longer would
have been long enough. I blame no one else.”

“ N — n — no one else ? ”

“ Not for this mischance; I have an old score to clear with
that young fellow who has carried off your mistress ; but that
has nothing to do with his blustering just now, for we should
soon have been quit of him, but for this cursed accident.”

There was something so unnatural in the calmness with
which Ralph Nickleby spoke, something so unnatural and
ghastly in the contrast between his harsh, slow, steady voice
and his face’s evidence of intense and violent passion that,
if the dead body which lay above had stood before the cower¬
ing Gride, it could scarcely have terrified him more.

“ The coach,” said Ralph after a time, during which he
had struggled like some strong man against a fit. “We came
in a coach. Is it waiting? ”

Gride gladly availed himself of the pretext for going to
the window to see. Ralph, keeping his face steadily the other
way, muttered in a hoarse whisper:

“ Ten thousand pounds ! He said ten thousand ! The
precise sum paid in but yesterday for the two mortgages,
and which would have gone out again, at heavy interest,
tomorrow. If that house has failed, and he the first to bring
the news ! — Is the coach there ? ”

“ Yes, yes,” said Gride, startled by the fierce tone of the
inquiry. “It’s here. Dear, dear, what a fiery man you are ! ”

“ Come here,” said Ralph, beckoning to him. “ We
mustn’t make a show of being disturbed. We’ll go down,
arm in arm.”

“ But you pinch me black and blue.”

Rafph let him go impatiently and, descending the stairs
with his usual firm and heavy tread, got into the coach.
Arthur Gride followed. After looking doubtfully at Ralph
when the man asked where he was to drive and, finding that

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

501

he remained silent and expressed no wish upon the subject,
Arthur mentioned his own house, and thither they proceeded.

On their way, Ralph sat in the farthest corner with folded
arms and uttered not a word. With his chin sunk on his
breast, and his downcast eyes quite hidden by the con¬
traction of his knotted brows, he might have been asleep
for any sign of consciousness he gave, until the coach stopped,
when he raised his head and, glancing through the window,
inquired what place that was.

“ My house,” answered the disconsolate Gride, affected
perhaps by its loneliness. “ Oh dear! My house.”

“True, I have not observed the way we came. I should
like a glass of water. You have that in the house, I sup¬
pose? ”

“ You shall have a glass of — of anything you like. It’s
no use knocking, coachman. Ring the bell! ”

The man rang, and rang, and rang again, then knocked
until the street reechoed with the sounds, then listened at the
keyhole of the door. Nobody came. The house was silent
as the grave.

“ How’s this ? ” said Ralph, impatiently.

“ Peg is so very deaf,” answered Gride, with a look of
anxiety and alarm. “Oh dear! Ring again, coachman.
She sees the bell.”

Again the man rang and knocked, and knocked and rang.
Some of the neighbours threw up their windows and called
across the street to each other that old Gride’s housekeeper
must have dropped down dead. Others collected round the
coach and gave vent to various surmises; some held that she
had fallen asleep; some that she had burnt herself to death;
some that she had got drunk; one very fat man said that she
had seen something to eat which had frightened her so much
(not being used to it) that she had fallen into a fit. This
last suggestion particularly delighted the bystanders, who

502

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

cheered it uproariously, and were with some difficulty
deterred from dropping down the area and breaking open
the kitchen door to ascertain the fact. Nor was this all.
Rumours having gone abroad that Arthur was to be married
that morning, very particular inquiries were made after the
bride, who was held by the majority to be disguised in the
person of Mr. Ralph Nickleby, which gave rise to much jocose
indignation at the public appearance of a bride in boots and
pantaloons, and called forth a great many hoots and groans.
At length, the two money lenders obtained shelter in a house
next door and, being accommodated with a ladder, clambered
over the wall of the back yard — which was not a high one —
and descended in safety on the other side.

“ I am almost afraid to go in, I declare/’ said Arthur,
turning to Ralph when they were alone. “ Suppose she
should be murdered, lying with her brains knocked out by a
poker, eh ? ”

“ Suppose she were. I tell you, I wish such things were
more common than they are, and more easily done. You may
stare and shiver. I do! ”

He applied himself to a pump in the yard and, having taken
a deep draught of water and flung a quantity on his head and
face, regained his accustomed manner and led the way into
the house, Gride following close at his heels.

It was the same dark place ; every room dismal and silent
as it always was, and every ghostly article of furniture in
its customary position.

From cellar to garret went the two usurers, opening every
creaking door and looking into every deserted room. But
no Peg was there. At last, they sat down in the apartment
which Arthur Gride usually inhabited to rest after their
search.

“ The hag is out on some preparation for your wedding
festivities, I suppose,” said Ralph, preparing to depart.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 503

“See here! I destroy the bond; we shall never need it
now.”

Gride, who had been peering narrowly about the room, fell,
at that moment, upon his knees before a large chest, and
uttered a terrible yell.

“ How now? ” said Ralph, looking sternly round.
“Robbed! Robbed! ” screamed Arthur Gride.

“ Robbed ! Of money ? ”

“ No, no, no. Worse! far worse! ”

“ Of what ? ”

“Worse than money, worse than money! ” cried the old
man, casting the papers out of the chest, like some beast
tearing up the earth. “ She had better have stolen money —
all my money — I haven’t much! She had better have
made me a beggar than have done this ! ”

“ Done what ? Done what, you devil’s dotard ? ”

Still Gride made no answer, but tore and scratched among
the papers, and yelled and screeched like a fiend in torment.

“ There is something missing, you say,” said Ralph, shaking
him furiously by the collar. “ What is it ? ”

“Papers, deeds. I am a ruined man. Lost, lost! I am
robbed, I am ruined! She saw me reading it — reading
it of late — I did very often — she watched me, saw me put
it in the box that fitted into this — the box is gone, she has
stolen it. Damnation seize her, she has robbed me! ”

“ Of what ! ” cried Ralph, on whom a sudden light ap¬
peared to break, for his eyes flashed, and his frame trembled
with agitation as he clutched Gride by his bony arm. “ Of
what? ”

“ She don’t know what it is ; she can’t read ! ” shrieked
Gride, not heeding the inquiry. “ There’s only one way in
which money can be made of it, and that is by taking it to
her. Somebody will read it for her and tell her what to do.
She and her accomplice will get money for it and be let off

504

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

besides. They’ll make a merit of it — say they found it —
knew it — and be evidence against me. The only person it
will fall upon is me, me, me! ”

“ Patience! ” said Ralph, clutching him still tighter and
eyeing him with a sidelong look, so fixed and eager as suffi¬
ciently to denote that he had some hidden purpose in what
he was about to say. “ Hear reason. She can’t have been
gone long. I’ll call the police. Do you but give information
of what she has stolen, and they’ll lay hands upon her, trust
me. Here! Help! ”

“ No, no, no,” screamed the old man, putting his hand on
Ralph’s mouth. “ I can’t, I daren’t.”

“Help! help! ” cried Ralph.

“ No, no, no,” shrieked the other, stamping on the ground
with the energy of a madman. “ I tell you no. I daren’t,
I daren’t.”

“ Daren’t make this robbery public ? ”

“ No ! Hush, hush ! Not a word of this ; not a word must
be said. I am undone. Whichever way I turn, I am undone.
I am betrayed. I shall be given up. I shall die in Newgate! ”

With frantic exclamations such as these and with many
others in which fear, grief, and rage were strangely blended,
the panic-stricken wretch gradually subdued his first loud
outcry until it had softened down into a low despairing moan,
chequered now and then by a howl, as, going over such papers
as were left in the chest, he discovered some new loss. With
very little excuse for departing so abruptly, Ralph left him,
and, greatly disappointing the loiterers outside the house by
telling them there was nothing the matter, got into the coach
and was driven to his own home.

A letter lay on his table. He let it lie there for some time,
as if he had not the courage to open it, but at length did so
and turned deadly pale.

“The worst has happened; the house has failed. I see.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 505

The rumour was abroad in the City last night and reached
the ears of those merchants. Well, well! ”

He strode violently up and down the room and stopped
again.

“ Ten thousand pounds ! And only lying there for a day
— for one day ! How many anxious years, how many pinch¬
ing days and sleepless nights, before I scraped together that
ten thousand pounds! — Ten thousand pounds.”

At length, dropping into his elbow chair and grasping its
sides so firmly that they creaked again, he said :

“ The time has been when nothing could have moved me
like the loss of this great sum. But now, I swear, I mix up
with the loss his triumph in telling it. If he had brought
it about — I almost feel as if he had — I couldn’t hate him
more. Let me but retaliate upon him, by degrees, however
slow — let me but begin to get the better of him, let me but
turn the scale — and I can bear it.”

His meditations were long and deep. They terminated
in his dispatching a letter by Newman, addressed to Mr.
Squeers at the Saracen’s Head, with instructions to inquire
whether he had arrived in town and, if so, to wait an answer.
Newman brought back the information that Mr. Squeers had
come by mail that morning and had received the letter in
bed; but that he sent his duty and word that he would get
up and wait upon Mr. Nickleby directly.

The interval between the delivery of this message and the
arrival of Mr. Squeers was very short; but before he came
Ralph had suppressed every sign of emotion, and once more
regained the hard, immovable, inflexible manner which was
habitual to him.

“ Well, Mr. Squeers,” he said, welcoming that worthy with
his accustomed smile, of which a sharp look and a thoughtful
frown were part and parcel, 11 how do you do? ”

“ Why, sir, I’m pretty well. So’s the family, and so’s the

506

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

boys, except for a sort of rash as is a’running through the
school, and rather puts them off their feed. But it's a ill
wind as blows no good to nobody; that’s what I always say
when them lads has a wisitation. The world is chockful of
wisitations; and if a boy repines at a wisitation and makes
you uncomfortable with his noise, he must have his head
punched. That’s going according to the scripter, that is.”

“ Mr. Squeers,” said Ralph, drily.

“ Sir.”

“ We’ll avoid these precious morsels of morality if you
please and talk of business.”

“ With all my heart, sir, and first let me say - ”

“ First let me say, if you please — Noggs! ”

Newman presented himself when the summons had been
twice or thrice repeated and asked if his master called.

“ I did. Go to your dinner. And go at once. Do you
hear? ”

“ It an’t time.”

“ My time is yours, and I say it is.”

“ You alter it every day; it isn’t fair.”

“ You don’t keep many cooks, and can easily apologise
to them for the trouble. Begone, sir! ”

Ralph not only issued this order in his most peremptory
manner but, under pretence of fetching some papers from the
little office, saw it obeyed and, when Newman had left the
house, chained the door to prevent the possibility of his
returning secretly, by means of his latchkey.

“ I have reason to suspect that fellow,” said Ralph, when
he returned to his own office. “ Therefore until I have
thought of the shortest and least troublesome way of ruining
him, I hold it best to keep him at a distance.”

“ It wouldn’t take much to ruin him, I should think,” said
Squeers, with a grin.

“ Perhaps not, nor to ruin a great many people whom I
know. You were going to say - ?”

507

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“Why, what I was going to say, sir, is that this here
business regarding of that ungrateful and hard-hearted
chap, Snawley senior, puts me out of my way, and occa¬
sions a inconveniency quite unparalleled; besides, as I may
say, making, for whole weeks together, Mrs. Squeers a
perfect widder. It’s a pleasure to me to act with you, of
course.”

“ Of course,” said Ralph, drily.

“ Yes, I say of course, but at the same time when one comes,
as I do now, better than two hundred and fifty mile to take a
affer-david, it does put a man out a good deal, letting alone
the risk.”

“ And where may the risk be, Mr. Squeers? ”

“ I said, letting alone the risk,” replied Squeers, evasively.

“ I ask you where is the risk? ” repeated Ralph, emphati¬
cally.

“Where the risk? Why, it an’t necessary to mention.
Certain subjects is best awoided. Oh, you know what risk
I mean.”

“ How often have I told you and how often am I to tell
you that you run no risk? What risk do you run? Who
swears to a lie but Snawley — a man whom I have paid much
less than I have you ? ”

“ He certainly did it cheap, did Snawley.”

“ He did it cheap, yes; and he did it well. Risk! What
do you mean by risk? The certificates are all genuine.
Snawley had another son. He has been. married twice; his
first wife is dead. None but her ghost could tell that she
didn’t write that letter; none but Snawley himself can tell
that this is not his son and that his son is food for worms !
The only perjury is Snawley’s, and I fancy he is pretty well
used to it. Where’s your risk? ”

“ Wliy, you know, if you come to that, I might say where’s
yours ? ”

“ You might say where’s mine! you may say where’s mine.

508 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

I don’t appear in the business ; neither do you. All Snawley’s
interest is to stick well to the story he has told; all his risk
is to depart from it in the least. Talk of your risk in the
conspiracy! ”

“ I say,” remonstrated Squeers, looking uneasily round;
“ don’t call it that! Just as a favour, don’t.”

“ Call it what you like, but attend to me. This tale was
originally fabricated as a means of annoyance against one
who hurt your trade and half-cudgelled you to death. The
account is against me, for I spent money to gratify my
hatred, and you pocket it, and gratify yours at the same time.
Which is best off? You, who win money and revenge at the
same time and are sure of money, if not of revenge; or I,
who am only sure of spending money in any case, and can
but win bare revenge at last?”

As Mr. Squeers could only answer this proposition by
shrugs and smiles, Ralph bade him be silent and thankful
that he was so well off; and then, fixing his eyes steadily upon
him, proceeded to say :

First, that Nicholas had thwarted him in a plan he had
formed for the disposal in marriage of a certain young lady
and had secured that lady himself and borne her off in
triumph.

Secondly, that by some will or settlement she was entitled
to property which, if the existence of this deed ever became
known to her, would make her husband a rich and prosperous
man.

Thirdly, that this deed had been, with others, stolen from
one who had obtained it fraudulently.

“ Now,” said Ralph, leaning forward, and placing his hand
on Squeers’s arm, “ hear the design which I have conceived.
No advantage can be reaped from this deed, whatever it is,
save by the girl herself or her husband. I want that deed
brought here that I may give the man who brings it fifty
pounds in gold and burn it to ashes before his face.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

509

Mr. Squeers, after following with his eye the action of
Ralph’s hand towards the fireplace as if he were at that
moment consuming the paper, drew a long breath, and
said:

“ Yes, but who’s to bring it? ”

“ Nobody, perhaps, for much is to be done before it can
be got at, but if anybody — you ! ”

Mr. Squeer’s first tokens of consternation and his flat
relinquishment of the task would have staggered most men,
if they had not immediately occasioned an utter abandon¬
ment of the proposition. On Ralph they produced not the
slightest effect. Resuming, when the schoolmaster had quite
talked himself out of breath, as coolly as if he had never
been interrupted, Ralph proceeded to expatiate on such
features of the case as he deemed it most advisable to lay
the greatest stress on.

These were the age, decrepitude, and weakness of Mrs.
Sliderskew; the great improbability of her having any ac¬
complice or even acquaintance; the difficulty she would be
placed in when she began to think on what she had done and
found herself encumbered with documents of whose nature
she was utterly ignorant; the comparative ease with which
somebody might worm himself into her confidence and obtain,
under one pretence or another, free possession of the deed.
The residence of Mr. Squeers at a long distance from London
rendered his association with Mrs. Sliderskew a mere mas¬
querading frolic in which nobody was likely to recognise
him either at the time or afterwards; various comments on
the uncommon tact and experience of Mr. Squeers, which
would make his overreaching one old woman a mere matter
of child’s play and amusement. In addition to these in¬
fluences and persuasions, Ralph drew, with his utmost skill
and power, a vivid picture of the defeat which Nicholas
would sustain, and finally hinted that the fifty pounds might
be increased to seventy-five, or even to a hundred.

510 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

These arguments at length concluded, Mr. Squeers, after
exhibiting many signs of restlessness and indecision, asked
whether Ralph couldn’t go another fifty; then said he sup¬
posed he must try to do the most he could for a friend, which
was always his maxim, and therefore he undertook the job.

“ But how are you to get at the woman? That’s what
it is as puzzles me.”

“ I may not get at her at all,” replied Ralph, “ but 1 11 try.
I have hunted people in this city before now who have been
better hid than she; and I know quarters in which a guinea
or two, carefully spent, will often solve darker riddles than
this. Ay, and keep them close, too, if need be! I hear my
man ringing at the door. We may as well part. You had
better not come to and fro, but wait till you hear from me.

“ Good! I say, if you shouldn’t find her out, you’ll pay
expenses at the Saracen and something for loss of time?”

“ Well, yes! You have nothing more to say? ”

Squeers shaking his head, Ralph accompanied him to the
street door and returned to his own room.

“ Now! Come what may, for the present I am firm and
unshaken. Let me but defeat him in this one hope, dear to
his heart as I know it must be; let me but do this; and it
shall be the first link in such a chain which I will wind about
him, as never man forged yet.”

CHAPTER XXXVIII

IT was a dark, wet, gloomy night in autumn. In an upper
room of a mean house situated in an obscure street, there
sat, all alone, a one-eyed man in a loose greatcoat, with arms
half as long again as his own and a breadth and length which
would have admitted of his winding himself in it, head and

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 511

all, with the utmost ease, and without any risk of straining
the old and greasy material of which it was composed.

So attired, and in a place so far removed from his usual
haunts and occupations, and so very poor and wretched in
its character, perhaps Mrs. Squeers herself would have had
some difficulty in recognising her lord. But Mrs. Squeers’s
lord it was. And in a tolerably disconsolate mood Mrs.
Squeers’s lord appeared to be, as he helped himself from a
black bottle which stood on the table beside him.

There were no attractions in the room over which the
glance of Mr. Squeers so discontentedly wandered, or in the
narrow street into which it might have penetrated, if he had
thought fit to approach the window. The attic chamber
in which he sat was bare and mean; the bedstead, and such
few other articles of necessary furniture as it contained,
were in a most crazy state, and of a most uninviting appear¬
ance. The street was muddy, dirty, and deserted. Having
but one outlet, it was traversed by few save the inhabitants
at any time ; and the night being one of those on which most
people are glad to be within doors, it now presented no other
signs of life than the dull glimmering of poor candles from the
dirty windows, and few sounds but the pattering of the rain,
and occasionally the heavy closing of some creaking door.
Mr. Squeers continued to look disconsolately about him and
to listen to these noises in profound silence, broken only by
the rustling of his large coat, as he now and then moved
his arm to raise his glass to his lips. Mr. Squeers continued
to do this for some time, until the increasing gloom warned
him to snuff the candle. Seeming to be slightly roused by
this exertion, he raised his eyes to the ceiling and, fixing them
upon some uncouth and fantastic figures traced upon it by
the wet and damp which had penetrated through the roof,
broke into the following soliloquy:

(e Well, this is a pretty go, is here! An uncommon pretty

512

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

go ! Here have I been, a matter of how many weeks — hard
upon six — a’f offering up this here blessed old dowager petty
larcenerer ” — Mr. Squeers delivered himself of this epithet
with great difficulty and effort — “ and Dotheboys Hall
a’running itself regularly to seed the while! That’s the
worst of ever being in with a owdacious chap like that old
Nickleby. You never know when he’s done with you; and if
you’re in for a penny, you’re in for a pound.”

This remark, perhaps, reminded Mr. Squeers that he was
in for a hundred pound at any rate. His countenance re¬
laxed, and he raised his glass to his mouth with an air of
greater enjoyment of its contents than he had before evinced.

“ I never see, I never see nor come across such a file as
that old Nickleby. Never! He’s out of everybody’s depth,
he is. He’s what you may call a rasper, is Nickleby. To
see how sly and cunning he grubbed on, day after day,
a’worming and plodding and tracing and turning and twining
of hisself about, till he found out where this precious Mrs.
Peg was hid, and cleared the ground for me to work upon.
Creeping and crawling and gliding, like an ugly old bright¬
eyed stagnation-blooded adder! Ah! He’d have made a
good un in our line, but it would have been too limited for
him; his genius would have busted all bonds and, coming over
every obstacle, broke down all before it, till it erected itself
into a monneyment of — well, I’ll think of the rest, and
say it when conwenient.”

Making a halt in his reflections at this place, Mr. Squeers
again put his glass to his lips and, drawing a dirty letter
from his pocket, proceeded to con over its contents with th$
air of a man who had read it very often and who now refreshed
his memory rather in the absence of better amusement than
for any specific information.

“ The pigs is well, the cows is well, and the boys is bobbish.
Young Sprouter has been a’winking, has he? I’ll wink him

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

513

when I get back. ‘ Cobbev would persist in sniffing while
he was a’eating his dinner and said that the beef was so
strong it made him ’ — Very good, Cobbey, we’ll see if we
can’t make you sniff a little without beef. ‘ Pitcher was
took with anpther fever,’ — of course, he was — ‘ and being
fetched by his friends, died the day after he got home ’ —
of course he did, and out of aggravation; it’s part of a deep-
laid system. There an’t another chap in the school but that
boy as would have died exactly at the end of the quarter,
taking it out of me to the. very last, and then carrying his
spite to the utmost extremity. ' The juniorest Palmer said
he wished he was in heaven.’ I really don’t know, I do not
know what’s to be done with that young fellow; he’s always
a’wishing something horrid. He said once he wished he was
a donkey, because then he wouldn’t have a father as didn’t
love him! Pretty wicious that for a child of six! ”

Mr. Squeers was so much moved by the contemplation of
this hardened nature in one so young that he angrily put
up the letter and sought, in a new train of ideas, a subject of
consolation.

“ It’s a long time to have been a’lingering in London, and
this is a precious hole to come and live in, even if it has been
only for a week or so. Still, one hundred pound is five boys,
and five boys takes a whole year to pay one hundred pound,
and there’s their keep to be subtracted. There’s nothing lost,
neither, by one’s being here, because the boys’ money comes
in just the same as if I was at home, and Mrs. Squeers she
keeps them in order. There’ll be some lost time to make up,
of course. There’ll be an arrear of flogging as’ll have to be
gone through; still, a couple of days makes that all right, and
one don’t mind a little extra work for one hundred pound.
It’s pretty nigh the time to wait upon the old woman. From
what she said last night, I suspect that, if I’m to succeed at
all, I shall succeed tonight ; so I’ll have half a glass more, to

514

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

wish myself success and put myself in spirits. Mrs. Squeers,
my dear, your health ! ”

Leering with his one eye as if the lady to whom he drank
had been actually present, Mr. Squeers — in his enthusiasm,
no doubt — poured out a full glass and emptied it; and as
the liquor was raw spirits and he had applied himself to the
same bottle more than once already, it is not surprising that
he found himself by this time in an extremely cheerful state,
and quite enough excited for his purpose.

What this purpose was soon appeared. After a few turns
about the room to steady himself, he took the bottle under
his arm and the glass in his hand and, blowing out the candle
as if he purposed being gone some time, stole out upon the
staircase and, creeping softly to the door opposite his own,
tapped gently at it.

“But what’s the use of tapping? She’ll never hear. I
suppose she isn’t doing anything very particular; and if she
is, it don’t matter, that I see.”

With this brief preface, Mr. Squeers applied his hand to
the latch of the door and, thrusting his head into a garret far
more deplorable than that he had just left, and, seeing that
there was nobody there but an old woman who was bending
over a wretched fire, walked in and tapped her on the
shoulder.

“Well, my Slider! ” said Mr. Squeers, jocularly.

“Is that you? ” inquired Peg.

“ Ahf It’s me.”

Mr. Squeers drew a stool to the fire and, placing himself
near her, and the bottle and glass on the floor between them,
roared out again very loud.

“ Well, my Slider! ”

“ I hear you,” said Peg, receiving him very graciously.

“ I’ve come according to promise,” roared Squeers.

“ So they used to say in that part of the country I come
from,” observed Peg, complacently, “ but I think oil’s better.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 515

“ Better than what ? ” roared Squeers, adding some rather
strong language in an undertone.

“ No,” said Peg, “ of course not.”

“ I never saw such a monster as you are ! ” muttered
Squeers looking as amiable as he possibly could the while;
for Peg’s eye was upon him, and she was chuckling fearfully,
as though in delight at having made a choice repartee. “ Do
you see this? This is a bottle.”

“ I see it.”

“ Well, and do you see this ? ” bawled Squeers. “ This is
a glass! ” Peg saw that, too.

“ See here, then,” said Squeers, accompanying his remarks
with appropriate action, “ I fill the glass from the bottle, and
I say * your health, Slider,’ and I empty it ; then I raise it
genteelly with a little drop, which I’m forced to throw into
the fire — hallo! we shall have the chimbley alight next —
fill it again, and hand it over to you.”

“ Your health,” said Peg.

“ She understands that, anyways,” muttered Squeers,
watching Mrs. Sliderskew as she dispatched her portion and
choked and gasped in a most awful manner after so doing;
“now then, let’s have a talk. How’s the rheumatics?”

Mrs. Sliderskew, with much blinking and chuckling and
with looks expressive of her strong admiration of Mr. Squeers,
his person, manner, and conversation, replied that the rheu¬
matics were better.

“ What’s the reason,” said Mr. Squeers, deriving fresh
facetiousness from the bottle; “what’s the reason of rheu¬
matics? What do they mean? What do people have ’em
for — eh?”

Mrs. Sliderskew didn’t know, but suggested that it was
possibly because they couldn’t help it.

“ Measles, rheumatics, whooping cough, fevers, agers, and
lumbagers,” said Mr. Squeers, “is all philosophy together;
that’s what it is. The heavenly bodies is philosophy, and the

516

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

earthly bodies is philosophy. If there’s a screw loose in a
heavenly body, that’s philosophy, and if there’s a screw
loose in a earthly body, that’s philosophy too. If a parent
asks a question in the classical, commercial, or mathematical
line, says I, gravely, 1 Why, sir, in the first place, are you a
philosopher? ’ — ' No, Mr. Squeers,’ he says, ‘ I an’t.’ 1 Then,
sir,’ says I, 1 I am sorry for you, for I shan’t be able to explain
it.’ Naturally, the parent goes away and wishes he was a
philosopher, and, equally naturally, thinks I’m one.”

Saying this, and a great deal more, with tipsy profundity
and a serio-comic air, and keeping his eye all the time on
Mrs. Sliderskew, who was unable to hear one word, Mr.
Squeers concluded by helping himself and passing the bottle.
To which Peg did becoming reverence.

“ That’s the time of day! ” said Mr. Squeers. “ You look
twenty pound ten better than you did.”

Again Mrs. Sliderskew chuckled, but modesty forbade her
assenting verbally to the compliment.

“ Twenty pound ten better,” repeated Mr. Squeers, “ than
you did that day when I first introduced myself. Don’t you
know? ”

“ Ah,” said Peg, shaking her head, “ but you frightened me
that day.”

“ Did I? Well, it was rather a startling thing for a
stranger to come and recommend himself by saying that he
knew all about you, and what your name was, and why you
were living so quiet here, and what you had boned, and who
you boned it from, wasn’t it ? ”

Peg nodded her head in strong assent.

“ But I know everything that happens in that way, you
see ; nothing takes place of that kind that I an’t up to entirely.
I’m a sort of a lawyer, Slider, of first-rate standing and under¬
standing. I’m the intimate friend and confidential adwiser
of pretty nigh every man, woman, and child that gets them-

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 517

selves into difficulties by being too nimble with their fingers.
I’m - ”

Mr. Squeers’s catalogue of his own merits and accomplish¬
ments, which was partly the result of a concerted plan between
himself and Ralph Nickleby, and flowed, in part, from the
black bottle, was here interrupted by Mrs. Sliderskew.

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” she cried, folding her arms and wagging her
head; “ and so he wasn’t married after all, was he? Not
married after all ? ”

“ No, that he wasn’t! ”

“ And a young lover come and carried off the bride, eh ? ”

“ From under his very nose, and I’m told the young chap
cut up rough besides, and broke the winders, and forced him
to swaller his wedding favour. Which nearly choked him.”

“ Tell me all about it again,” cried Peg, with a malicious
relish of her old master’s defeat, which made her natural
hideousness something quite fearful; “ let’s hear it all again,
beginning at the beginning now, as if you’d never told me.
Let’s have it every word — now — now — beginning at the
very first, you know, when he went to the house that
morning! ”

Mr. Squeers, plying Mrs. Sliderskew freely with the liquor
and sustaining himself under the exertion of speaking so loud
by frequent application to it himself, complied with this
request by describing the discomfiture of Arthur Gride, with
such improvements on the truth as happened to occur to
him and the ingenious invention and application of which
had been very instrumental in recommending him to her
notice in the beginning of their acquaintance. Mrs. Slider¬
skew was in an ecstasy of delight, rolling her head about,
drawing up her skinny shoulders, and wrinkling her cadaver¬
ous face into so many and such complicated forms of ugliness,
that she awakened the unbounded astonishment and disgust
even of Mr. Squeers.

518

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ He’s a treacherous old goat,” said Peg, “ and cozened me
with cunning tricks and lying promises; but never mind
I’m even with him. I’m even with him.”

“ More than even, Slider; you’d have been even with him
if he’d got married; but with the disappointment besides,
you’re a long way ahead. Out of sight, Slider, quite out of
sight. And that reminds me,” he added, handing her the
glass, “ if you want me to give you my opinion of them deeds,
and tell you what you’d better keep and what you’d better
burn, why now’s your time, Slider.”

“There an’t no hurry for that,” said Peg, with several
knowing looks and winks.

“ Oh, very well ! it don’t matter to me. You asked me, you
know. I shouldn’t charge you nothing, being a friend.
You’re the best judge, of course. But you’re a bold woman,
Slider.”

“ How do you mean, bold ? ”

“ Why, I only mean that if it was me, I wouldn’t keep
papers as might hang me littering about when they might be
turned into money — them as wasn’t useful made away with,
and them as was, laid by somewheres, safe; that’s all; but
everybody’s the best judge of their own affairs. All I say is,
Slider, I wouldn’t do it.”

“ Come,” said Peg, “ then you shall see ’em.”

“ I don’t want to see ’em,” replied Squeers, affecting to be
out of humour, “ don’t talk as if it was a treat. Show ’em to
somebody else, and take their advice.” Mr. Squeers would,
very likely, have carried on the farce of being offended a
little longer, if Mrs. Sliderskew in her anxiety to restore
herself to her former high position in his good graces had not
become so extremely affectionate that he stood at some risk
of being smothered by her caresses. Repressing with as
good a grace as possible these little familiarities — for which,
there is reason to believe, the black bottle was at least as

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

519

much to blame as any constitutional infirmity on the part
of Mrs. Sliderskew — he protested that he had only been
joking and, in proof of his unimpaired good humour, that he
was ready to examine the deeds at once, if by so doing he
could afford any satisfaction or relief of mind to his fair
friend.

“ And now you’re up, my Slider,” bawled Squeers, as she
rose to fetch them, “ bolt the door.”

Peg trotted to the door and, after fumbling at the bolt,
crept to the other end of the room, and from beneath the
coals which filled the bottom of the cupboard, drew forth a
small deal box. Having placed this on the floor at Squeers’s
feet, she brought from under the pillow of her bed a small
key, with which she signed to that gentleman to open it.
Mr. Squeers, who had eagerly followed her every motion,
lost no time in obeying this hint and, throwing back the lid,
gazed with rapture on the documents within.

“ Now, you see,” said Peg, kneeling down on the floor beside
him, and staying his impatient hand; “ what’s of no use,
we’ll burn; what we can get any money by, we’ll keep; and
if there’s any we could get him into trouble by, and fret and
waste away his heart to shreds with, those we’ll take par¬
ticular care of; for that’s what I want to do, and what I
hoped to do when I left him.”

“ I thought that you didn’t bear him any particular good
will. But, I say! Why didn’t you take some money
besides ? ”

“ Some what ? ”

“ Some money,” roared Squeers. “ I do believe the woman
hears me, and wants to make me break a wessel, so that she
may have the pleasure of nursing me. Some money, Slider,
money! ”

“ Why, what a man you are to ask ! ” cried Peg, with some
contempt. “ If I had taken money from Arthur Gride, he’d

520

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

have scoured the whole earth to find me — aye, and he’d
have smelt it out, and raked it up somehow if I had buried
it at the bottom of the deepest well in England. No, no! I
knew better than that. I took what I thought his secrets
were hid in. Them he couldn’t afford to make public, let
’em be worth ever so much money. He’s an old dog ; a sly,
old, cunning, thankless dog! He first starved and then
tricked me; and if I could, I’d kill him.”

“ All right, and very laudable, but, first and foremost,
Slider, burn the box. You should never keep things as may
lead to discovery. Always mind that. So while you pull
it to pieces (which you can easily do, for it’s very old and
rickety) and burn it in little bits, I’ll look over the papers
and tell you what they are.”

Peg expressing her acquiescence in the arrangement,
Mr. Squeers turned the box bottom upward and, tumbling
the contents upon the floor, handed it to her, the destruction
of the box being an extemporary device for engaging her
attention, in case it should prove desirable to distract it from
his own proceedings.

“ There ! You poke the pieces between the bars and make
up a good fire, and I’ll read the while. Let me see, let me
see.” And taking the candle down beside him, Mr. Squeers,
with great eagerness and a cunning grin overspreading his
face, entered upon his task of examination.

If the old woman had not been very deaf, she must have
heard, when she last went to the door, the breathing of two
persons close behind it. If those two persons had been un¬
acquainted with her infirmity, they would probably have
chosen that moment either for presenting themselves or
taking to flight. But knowing with whom they had to deal,
they remained quite still, and now, not only appeared un¬
observed at the door — which was not bolted, for the bolt
had no hasp — but warily and with noiseless footsteps, ad¬
vanced into the room.

521

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

They stole farther and farther in by slight and scarcely
perceptible degrees, with such caution that they scarcely
seemed to breathe. The old hag and Squeers, little dreaming
of any such invasion, and utterly unconscious of there being
any soul near but themselves, were busily occupied with
their tasks. The old woman, with her wrinkled face close to
the bars of the stove, was puffing at the dull embers which
had not yet caught the wood. Squeers was stooping down to
the candle, which brought out the full ugliness of his face, as
the light of the fire did that of his companion. Both were
intently engaged, wearing faces of exultation which con¬
trasted strongly with the anxious looks of those intruders
behind, who took advantage of the slightest sound to oover
their advances, and almost before they had moved an inch
forward and all was silent, stopped again.

Of the stealthy comers, Frank Cheeryble was one and
Newman Noggs the other. Newman had caught up by the
rusty nozzle an old pair of bellows, which were just under¬
going a flourish in the air preparatory to a descent upon the
head of Mr. Squeers, when Frank with an earnest gesture
stayed his arm and, taking another step in advance, came so
close behind the schoolmaster that, by leaning slightly for¬
ward, he could plainly distinguish the writing which he held
up to his eye.

Mr. Squeers, not being remarkably learned, appeared to be
considerably puzzled by the first prize, which was in an en¬
grossing hand1 and not very legible except to a practised
eye. Having tried it by reading from left to right, and from
right to left, and finding it equally clear both ways, he
turned it upside down with no better success.

“ Ha, ha, ha ! ” chuckled Peg, who, on her knees before the
fire, was feeding it with fragments of the box and grinning
in most devilish exultation. “ What’s that writing about,
eh?”

1A special form of handwriting formerly used in legal documents.

522

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Nothing particular,” replied Squeers, tossing it towards
her. “ It’s only an old lease, as well as I can make out.
Throw it in the fire.”

Mrs. Sliderskew complied, and inquired what the next one
was.

“ This is a bundle of overdue acceptances and re¬
newed bills of six or eight young gentlemen; but they’re all
M. P.’s,1 so it is of no use to anybody. Throw it in the
fire! ”

Peg did as she was bidden, and waited for the next.

“ This seems to be some deed of sale. Take care of that,
Slider, literally for God’s sake. It’ll fetch its price at the
auction mart.”

“ What’s the next? ” inquired Peg.

“ Why, this seems, from the two letters that’s with it, to
be a bond from a curate down in the country, to pay half
a year’s wages of forty pound for borrowing twenty. Take
care of that; for if he don’t pay it, his bishop will very soon
be down upon him. It’s very odd; I don’t see anything like
it yet.”

“ What’s the matter? ” said Peg.

“ Nothing, only I’m looking for - ”

Newman raised his bellows again. Once again Frank, by
a rapid motion of his arm unaccompanied by any noise,
checked him in his purpose.

“ Here you are,” said Squeers, “ bonds — take care of
them. Warrant of attorney — take care of that. Two
cognovits — take care of them. Lease and release — burn
that. Ah! ‘ Madeline Bray — come of age or marry —
the said Madeline ’ — here, burn that ! ”

Eagerly throwing towards the old woman a parchment that
he caught up for the purpose, Squeers, as she turned her
head, thrust into the breast of his large coat the deed in which
. J Members of Parliament.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBA 523

these words had caught his eye and burst into a shout of
triumph.

“I’ve got it! I've got it! Hurrah! The plan was a
good one, though the chance was desperate, and the day’s our
own at last! ”

Peg demanded what he laughed at, but no answer was
returned. Newman’s arm could no longer be restrained.
The bellows, descending heavily and with unerring aim on the
very centre of Mr. Squeers’s head, felled him to the floor,
and stretched him on it flat and senseless.

CHAPTER XXXIX

THE sudden and terrible shock she had received, com¬
bined with the great affliction and anxiety of mind
which she had for a long time endured, proved too much
for Madeline Bray’s strength. She was ill for a long time
at the home of the Nicklebys. Recovering from the state of
stupefaction into which the sudden death of her father
plunged her, she only exchanged that condition for one of
dangerous and active illness. But she had every care that
could possibly be given, for Kate Nickleby took all the
responsibility of the sick room.

Who, slowly recovering from any illness, could be in¬
sensible to the attentions of such a nurse as gentle, tender,
earnest Kate? Her sweet voice, light step, delicate hand,
her quiet cheerful discharge of little offices of kindness made
a deep impression on Madeline’s young heart, stored with
every pure and true affection that women cherish, but almost
a stranger to the endearments and devotion of its own sex.
She was rendered by calamity and suffering keenly sus¬
ceptible to the sympathy so long unknown and so long sought

524 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

in vain ! What wonder that days became as years in knitting
them together !

“ My dear/’ Mrs. Nickleby would say, coming into the room
with an elaborate caution, calculated to discompose the nerves
of an invalid more than the entry of a horse soldier at full
gallop; “ how do you find yourself tonight? I hope you are
better?”

“ Almost well, mama,” Kate would reply, laying down
her work and taking Madeline’s hand in hers.

“Kate! ” Mrs. Nickleby would say, reprovingly, “don’t
talk so loud.” (The worthy lady herself talking in a whisper
that would have made the blood of the stoutest man run cold
in his veins.)

Kate would take this reproof very quietly, and Mrs.
Nickleby, making every board creak and every thread rustle
as she moved stealthily about, would add :

“ My son Nicholas has just come home, and I have come,
according to custom, my dear, to know, from your own lips,
exactly how you are; for he won’t take my account, and
never will.”

“ He is later than usual tonight,” perhaps Madeline would
reply. “ Nearly half an hour.”

“ Well, I never saw such people in all my life as you are,
for time, up here! I declare I never did! I had not the
least idea that Nicholas was after his time, not the smallest.
Mr. Nickleby used to say — your poor papa, I am speaking
of, Kate, my dear — used to say that appetite was the best
clock in the world, but you have no appetite, my dear Miss
Bray, I wish you had, upon my word I really think you
ought to take something that would give you one. I am
sure I don’t know, but I have heard that two or three dozen
native lobsters give an appetite, though that comes to the
same thing after all, for I suppose you must have an appe¬
tite before you can take ’em. If I said lobsters, I meant

525

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

oysters; it’s all the same. Though really how you came
to know about Nicholas - ”

“We happened to be just talking about him, mama — that
was it.”

“ You never seem to be talking about anything else, Kate,
and upon my word I am quite surprised at your being so very
thoughtless. You can find subjects enough to talk about,
sometimes, and when you know how important it is to keep
up Miss Bray’s spirits, and interest her, and all that, it
really is quite extraordinary to me what can induce you to
keep on prose, prose, prose, din, din, din, everlastingly upon
the same theme. You are a very kind nurse, Kate, and a
very good one, and I know you mean very well; but I will
say this — that if it wasn’t for me, I really don’t know what
would become of Miss Bray’s spirits,, and so I tell the doctor
every day. He says he wonders how I sustain my own, and
I am sure I very often wonder myself how I can contrive to
keep up as I do. Of course, it’s an exertion, but still, when
I know how much depends upon me in this house, I am obliged
to make it. There’s nothing praiseworthy in that, but it’s
necessary, and I do it.”

With that, Mrs. Nickleby would draw up a chair and for
some three-quarters of an hour run through a great variety
of distracting topics in the most distracting manner possible,
tearing herself away, at length, on the plea that she must
now go and amuse Nicholas while he took his supper. After
a preliminary raising of his spirits with the information that
she considered the patient decidedly worse, she would further
cheer him up by relating how dull, listless, and low-spirited
Miss Bray was, because Kate foolishly talked about nothing
else but him and family matters. When she had made
Nicholas thoroughly comfortable with these and other in¬
spiriting remarks, she would discourse at length on the ardu¬
ous duties she had performed that day and sometimes would

526

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

be moved to tears in wondering how, if anything were to hap¬
pen to herself, the family would ever get on without her.

At other times, when Nicholas came home at night, he
would be accompanied by Mr. Frank Cheeryble, who was
commissioned by the brothers to inquire how Madeline was
getting along. On such occasions (and they were of very
frequent occurrence), Mrs. Nickleby deemed it of particular
importance that she should have her wits about her ; for from
certain signs and tokens which had attracted her attention,
she shrewdly suspected that Mr. Frank, interested as his
uncles were in Madeline, came quite as much to see Kate
as to inquire after the former; the more especially as the
brothers were in constant communication with the medi¬
cal man, came backwards and forwards very frequently them¬
selves, and received a full report from Nicholas every morn¬
ing. Mrs. Nickleby took the opportunity of being left alone
with her son before retiring to rest, to sound him on the sub¬
ject which so occupied her thoughts; not doubting that they
could have but one opinion respecting it. To this end, she
approached the question with divers laudatory and appro¬
priate remarks touching the general amiability of Mr. Frank
Cheeryble.

“ You are quite right, mother, quite right. He is a fine
fellow.”

“ Good-looking, too.”

“ Decidedly good-looking.”

“ He is very much attached to you, Nicholas, my dear.”

Nicholas laughingly said, as he closed his book, that he
was glad to hear it, and observed that his mother seemed deep
in their new friend’s confidence already.

“ Hem ! I don’t know about that, my dear, but I think
it is very necessary that somebody should be in his confi¬
dence; highly necessary.”

Elated by a look of curiosity from her son and the con-

527

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

sciousness of possessing a great secret, all to herself, Mrs.
Nickleby went on with great animation:

“ I am sure> my dear Nicholas, how you can have failed
to notice it is, to me, quite extraordinary, though I don’t
know why I should say that, either, because, of course, as far
as it goes, and to a certain extent, there is a great deal in
this sort of thing, especially in this early stage, which, how¬
ever clear it may be to females, can scarcely be expected to be
so evident to men. I don’t say that I have any particular
penetration in such matters. I may have. Those about
me should know best about that, and perhaps do know.
Upon that point I shall express no opinion; it wouldn’t be¬
come me to do so; it’s quite out of the question, quite.”

Nicholas snuffed the candles, put his hands in his pockets,
and leaning back in his chair, assumed a look of patient
suffering and melancholy resignation.

“ I think it my duty, Nicholas, my dear, to tell you what
I know, not only because you have a right to know it too,
and to know everything that happens in this family, but
because you have it in your power to promote and assist the
thing very much. There are a great many things you might
do, such as taking a walk in the garden sometimes, or sitting
upstairs in your own room for a little while, or making
believe to fall asleep occasionally, or pretending that you
recollected some business, and going out for an hour or so,
and taking Mr. Smike with you. These seem very slight
things, and I dare say you will be amused at my making
them of so much importance. At the same time, my dear,
I can assure you (and you’ll find this out, Nicholas, for your¬
self one of these days, if you ever fall in love with anybody,
as I trust and hope you will, provided she is respectable and
well conducted, and of course you’d never dream of falling
in love with anybody who was not), I say, I can assure you
that a great deal more depends on these little things than

528

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

you would suppose possible. If your poor papa was alive
he would tell you how much depended on the parties being
left alone. Of course, you are not to go out of the room as
if you meant it and did it on purpose, but as if it was quite
an accident, and to come back again in the same way. If
you cough in the passage before you open the door, or whistle
carelessly, or hum a tune, or something of that sort to let
them know you’re coming, it’s always better, because, of
course, though it’s not only natural but perfectly correct and
proper under the circumstances, still it is very confusing if
you interrupt young people when they are — when they are
sitting on the sofa, and — and all that sort of thing, which is
very nonsensical, perhaps, but still they will do it.

The profound astonishment with which her son regarded
her during this long address in no way discomposed Mrs.
Nickleby, but rather exalted her opinion of her own clever¬
ness; therefore, merely stopping to remark with much com¬
placency that she had fully expected him to be surprised, she
entered on a vast quantity of circumstantial evidence of a
particularly incoherent and perplexing kind, the upshot of
which was, to establish beyond the possibility of doubt, that
Mr. Frank Cheeryble had fallen desperately in love with
Kate.

“ With whom? ” cried Nicholas.

Mrs. Nickleby repeated, “ With Kate.”

“What! Our Kate! My sister! ”

“Lord, Nicholas, whose Kate should it be, if not ours;
or what should I care about it, or take any interest in it for,
if it was anybody but your sister? ”

“ Dear mother, surely it can’t be ! ”

“ Very good, my dear, wait and see.”

Nicholas had never, until that moment, bestowed a thought
on the possibility of such an occurrence for, besides that he
had been much from home of late and closely occupied with

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

529

other matters, his own jealous fears had prompted the sus¬
picion that some secret interest in Madeline occasioned those
visits of Frank Cheeryble which had recently become so
frequent. Even now, although he knew that the observation
of an anxious mother was much more likely to be correct
than his own, he was not quite convinced that they did not just
arise from mere good-natured thoughtless gallantry, which
would have dictated the same conduct towards any other girl
who was young and pleasing. At all events, he hoped so, and
therefore tried to believe it.

“ I am very much disturbed by what you tell me,” said
Nicholas, after a little reflection, “ though I yet hope you
may be mistaken.”

“I don’t understand why you should hope so, I confess;
but you may depend upon it I am not.”

“ What of Kate? ” inquired Nicholas.

“ Why that, my dear, is just the point upon which I am
not yet satisfied. During this sickness, she has been con¬
stantly at Madeline’s bedside — never were two people so
fond of each other as they have grown — and to tell you the
truth, Nicholas, I have rather kept her away now and then,
because I think it’s a good plan, and urges a young man on.
He doesn’t get too sure, you know.”

She said this with such a mingling of high delight and self-
congratulation that it Was inexpressibly painful to Nicholas
to dash her hopes; but he felt that there was only one
honourable course before him, and that he was bound to
take it.

" Dear mother,” he said kindly, “ don’t you see that if
there were really any serious inclination on the part of Mr.
Frank towards Kate, and we permitted ourselves for a
moment to encourage it, we should be acting a most dis¬
honourable and ungrateful part? I ask you if you don’t
see it, but I need not say that I know you don’t, or you would

530

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

have been more strictly on your guard. Let me explain my
meaning to you. Remember how poor we are.”

Mrs. Nickleby shook her head and said through her tears
that poverty was not a crime.

“ No, and for that reason poverty should engender an
honest pride, that it may not lead and tempt us to unworthy
actions and that we may preserve the self-respect which a
1 hewer of wood and drawer of water 1 may maintain, and
does better in maintaining than a monarch in preserving his.
Think what we owe to these two brothers; remember what
they have done, and what they do every day for us, with
a generosity and delicacy for which the devotion of our whole
lives would be a most imperfect and inadequate return.
What kind of return would that be which would be comprised
in our permitting their nephew, their only relative, whom
they regard as a son, and for whom it would be mere childish¬
ness to suppose they have not formed plans suitably adapted
to the education he has had, and the fortune he will inherit
— in our permitting him to marry a portionless girl, so closely
connected with us that the irresistible inference must be that
he was entrapped by a plot, that it was a deliberate scheme,
and a speculation amongst us three? Bring the matter
clearly before yourself, mother. Now, how would you feel
if they were married, and the brothers coming here on one
of those kind errands which bring them here so often, you
had to break out to them the truth? Would you be at ease
and feel that you had played an open part ? ”

Poor Mrs. Nickleby, crying more and more, murmured
that, of course, Mr. Frank would ask the consent of his
uncles first.

“ Why, to be sure, that would place him in a better situa¬
tion with them, but we should still be open to the same
suspicions; the distance between us would still be as great;
the advantages to be gained would still be as manifest as now.

531

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

We may be reckoning without our host, in all this,” he
added more cheerfully, “ and I trust and almost believe we
are. If it be otherwise, I have that confidence in Kate that
I know she will feel as I do — and in you, dear mother, to be
assured that after a little consideration you will do the
same.”

After many more representations and entreaties, Nicholas
obtained a promise from Mrs. Nickleby that she would try
all she could to think as he did. He determined to forbear
mentioning the subject to Kate, until he was quite convinced
that there existed a real necessity for his doing so; and he
resolved to assure himself as well as he could by close personal
observation of the exact position of affairs. This was a very
wise resolution, but he was prevented from putting it in
practice by a new source of anxiety and uneasiness.

Smike became alarmingly ill, so reduced and exhausted that
he could scarcely move from room to room without assist¬
ance, so worn and emaciated, that it was painful to look
upon him. Nicholas was warned by the same medical
authority to whom he had at first appealed that the last
chance and hope of his life depended on his being instantly
removed from London. That part of Devonshire in which
Nicholas had been himself bred was named as the most
favourable spot ; but this advice was cautiously coupled with
the information that whoever accompanied him thither must
be prepared for the worst; for every token of rapid consump¬
tion had appeared, and he might never return alive.

The kind brothers, who were acquainted with the poor
creature’s sad history, dispatched old Tim to be present at
this consultation. That same morning, Nicholas was sum¬
moned by Brother Charles into his private room, and thus
addressed :

“ My dear sir, no time must be lost. This lad shall not
die if such human means as we can use can save his life;

532

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

neither shall he die alone and in a strange place. Remove
him tomorrow morning; see that he has every comfort that
his situation requires, and don’t leave him; don’t leave him,
my dear sir, until you know that there is no longer any imme¬
diate danger. It would be hard, indeed, to part you now.
No, no, no! Tim shall wait upon you tonight, sir; Tim shall
wait upon you tonight with a parting word or two. Brother
Ned, my dear fellow, Mr. Nickleby waits to shake hands and
say good-bye; Mr. Nickleby won’t be long gone; this poor
chap will soon get better, very soon get better; and then
he’ll find out some nice homely country people to leave him
with, and will go backwards and forwards sometimes —
backwards and forwards you know, Ned. And there’s no
cause to be down-hearted, for he’ll very soon get better, very
soon. Won’t he, won’t he, Ned? ”

What Tim Linkinwater said, or what he brought with him
that night, need not to be told. Next morning Nicholas and
his feeble companion began their long journey.

And who but one — and that one he who, but for those
who crowded round him then, had never met a look of kind¬
ness, or known a word of pity — could tell what agony of
mind, what blighted thoughts, what unavailing sorrow, were
involved in that parting!

“ See,” cried Nicholas, as he looked from the coach window,
“ they are at the corner of the lane still ! And now there’s
Kate, poor Kate whom you said you couldn’t bear to say
good-bye to, waving her handkerchief. Don’t go without one
gesture of farewell to Kate! ”

“ I cannot make it ! ” cried his trembling companion,
falling back in his seat and covering his eyes. “ Do you see
her now ? Is she there still ? ”

“Yes, yes!” said Nicholas earnestly. “There! She
waves her hand again! I have answered it for you — and
now they are out of sight. Do not give way so bitterly, dear
friend, don’t. You will meet them all again.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

533

CHAPTER XL

DIVIDING the distance into two days’ journey, in order
that Smike might sustain the less exhaustion and fatigue
from travelling so far, Nicholas, at the end of the second
day from their leaving home, found himself within a very
few miles of the spot where the happiest years of his life
had been passed. While this filled his mind with pleasant
and peaceful thoughts, it also brought back many painful
and vivid recollections of the circumstances in which he and
his had wandered forth from their old home, cast upon the
rough world and the mercy of strangers.

It needed no such reflections as those which the memory
of old days and wanderings among scenes where our child¬
hood had been passed usually awaken in the most insensible
minds, to soften the heart of Nicholas and render him more
than usually mindful of his drooping friend. By night and
day, at all times and seasons, always watchful, attentive, and
solicitous, and never varying in the discharge of his self-
imposed duty to one so friendless and helpless as he whose
sands of life were now fast running out and dwindling rapidly
away, he was ever at his side. He never left him. To encourage
and animate him, administer to his wants, support and cheer
him to the utmost of his power, was now his constant and
unceasing occupation.

They procured a humble lodging in a small farmhouse sur¬
rounded by meadows, where Nicholas had often revelled
when a child with a troop of merry schoolfellows, and here
they took up their rest.

At first, Smike was strong enough to walk about for short
distances at a time, with no other support or aid than that
•which Nicholas could afford him. At this time, nothing
appeared to interest him so much as visiting those places
which had been most familiar to his friend in bygone days.

534

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Nicholas made such spots the scenes of their daily rambles,
driving him from place to place in a little pony chair, and
supporting him on his arm while they walked slowly among
these old haunts, or lingered in the sunlight to take long
parting looks of those which were most quiet and beautiful.

It was on such occasions as these that Nicholas would point
out some tree that he had climbed a hundred times, to peep
at the young birds in their nest; and the branch from which
he used to shout to little Kate, who stood below terrified
at the height he had gained, and yet urging him higher still
by the intensity of her admiration. There was the old house,
too, which they would pass every day, looking up at the tiny
window through which the sun used to stream in and wake
him on the summer mornings — they were all summer morn¬
ings then. There was not a lane, or brook, or copse, or
cottage near, with which some childish event was not en¬
twined.

One of these expeditions led them through the churchyard
where was his father’s grave. “ Even here,” said Nicholas,
softly, “ we used to loiter before we knew what death was,
and when we little thought whose ashes would rest beneath,
and, wondering at the silence, sit down to rest and speak
below our breath. Once Kate was lost, and after an hour
of fruitless search, they found her fast asleep under that tree
which shades my father’s grave. He was very fond of her
and said, when he took her up in his arms, still sleeping, that
whenever he died he would wish to be buried where his dear
little child had laid her head. You see his wish was not
forgotten.”

Nothing more passed, at the time, but that night, as Nicho¬
las sat beside his bed, Smike started from what had seemed to
be a slumber and, laying his hand in his, prayed, as the tears
coursed down his face, that he would make him one solemn
promise.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 535

“ What is that? ” said Nicholas, kindly. “ If I can redeem
it, or hope to do so, you know I will.”

“ I am sure you will. Promise me that when I die, I shall
be buried near — as near as they can make my grave — to
the tree we saw today.”

Nicholas gave the promise; he had few words to give it
in, but they were solemn and earnest. His poor friend kept
his hand in his, and turned as if to sleep. But there were
stifled sobs; and the hand was pressed more than once, or
twice, or thrice, before he sank to rest and slowly loosed
his hold.

In a fortnight’s time, he became too ill to move about. Once
or twice, Nicholas drove him out, propped up with pillows;
but the motion of the chaise was painful to him, and brought
on fits of fainting, which, in his weakened state, were danger¬
ous. There was an old couch in the house which was his
favourite resting place by day. When the sun shone, and the
weather was warm, Nicholas had this wheeled into a little
orchard which was close at hand, and his charge being well
wrapped up and carried out to it, they used to sit there
sometimes for hours together.

It was on one of these occasions that a circumstance took
place which Nicholas, at the time, believed to be the delusion
of an imagination affected by disease, but which he had after¬
wards too good reason to know was of real and actual occur¬
rence.

He had brought Smike out in his arms — poor fellow! a
child might have carried him then — to see the sunset and,
having arranged his couch, had taken his seat beside it.
Nicholas had been watching the whole of the night before
and, being greatly fatigued both in body and mind, gradually
fell asleep.

He could not have closed his eyes five minutes, when he
was awakened by a scream, and starting up in that kind of

536

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

terror which affects a person suddenly roused, saw, to his
great astonishment, that his charge had struggled into a
sitting posture, and with eyes almost starting from their
sockets, cold dew standing on his forehead, and in a fit of
trembling which quite convulsed his frame, was calling to
him for help.

“ Good heaven, what is this ! ” said Nicholas, bending over
him. “ Be calm; you have been dreaming.”

“ No, no, no ! ” cried Smike, clinging to him. “ Hold me
tight. Don’t let me go. There, there! Behind the tree! ”

Nicholas followed his eyes, which were directed to some
distance behind the chair from which he himself had just
risen. But there was nothing there.

“ This is nothing but your fancy,” he said, as he strove to
compose him, “ nothing else indeed.”

“ I know better. I saw as plain as I see now. Oh, say
you’ll keep me with you. Swear you won’t leave me, for an
instant! ”

“Do I ever leave you? Lie down again — there! You
see I’m here. Now tell me, what was it? ”

“ Do you remember,” said Smike, in a low voice, and
glancing fearfully round, “ do you remember my telling you
of the man who first took me to the school ? ”

“Yes, surely.”

“ I raised my eyes, just now, towards that tree — that one
with the thick trunk — and there, with his eyes fixed on me,
he stood ! ”

“ Only reflect for one moment, granting, for an instant,
that it’s likely he is alive, wandering about a lonely place
like this, so far removed from the public road; do you think
that at this distance of time you could possibly know that
man again? ”

“ Anywhere — in any dress,” returned Smike, “ but just
now he stood leaning upon his stick and looking at me,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

537

exactly as I told you I remembered him. He was dusty
with walking, and poorly dressed — I think his clothes were
ragged — but directly I saw him, the wet night, his face when
he left me, the parlour I was left in, the people who were
there, all seemed to come back together. When he knew I
saw him, he looked frightened, for he started and shrank
away. I have thought of him by day and dreamt of him by
night. He looked in my sleep when I was quite a little child,
and has looked in my sleep ever since, as he did just now.”

Nicholas endeavoured by every persuasion and argument
he could think of to convince the terrified creature that his
imagination had deceived him and that this close resemblance
between the creation of his dreams and the man he had seen
was but a proof of it; but all in vain. When he could per¬
suade him to remain for a few moments in the care of the
people to whom the house belonged, he instituted a strict
inquiry whether any stranger had been seen and searched
himself behind the tree and through the orchard, and upon
the land immediately adjoining, and in every place near,
where it was possible for a man to lie concealed, but all in
vain. Satisfied that he was right in his original conjecture,
he applied himself to calming the fears of Smike, which, after
some time, he partially succeeded in doing, though not in
removing the impression upon his mind; for he still declared
again and again in the most solemn and fervid manner that
he had positively seen what he had described and that nothing
could ever remove his conviction of its reality.

And now Nicholas began to see that hope was gone and
that upon the partner of his poverty and the sharer of his
better fortune the world was closing fast. There was little
pain, little uneasiness, but there was no rallying, no effort,
no struggle for life. He was worn and wasted to the last
degree; his voice had sunk so low that he could scarce be
heard to speak; nature was thoroughly exhausted.

538

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

On a fine mild autumn day, when all was tranquil and at
peace, when the soft sweet air crept in at the open window
of the quiet room and not a sound was heard but the gentle
rustling of the leaves, Nicholas sat in his old place by the
bedside and knew that the time was nearly come. So very
still it was that every now and then he bent down his ear
to listen for the breathing of him who lay asleep, as if to
assure himself that life was still there and that he had not
fallen into that deep slumber from which on earth there is
no waking.

While he was thus employed, the closed eyes opened,
and on the pale face there came a placid smile.

“ That’s well,” said Nicholas. “ The sleep has done you
good.”

“ I have had such pleasant dreams, such pleasant, happy
dreams! ”

“ Of what? ”

The dying boy turned towards him and, putting his arm
about his neck, made answer, “ I shall soon be there ! ”

After a short silence he spoke again.

“ I am not afraid to die; I am quite contented. I almost
think that if I could rise from this bed quite well I would
not wish to do so, now. You have so often told me we shall
meet again — so very often lately, and now I feel the truth
of that, so strongly — that I can even bear to part from
you.”

The trembling voice and tearful eye and the closer grasp
of the arm showed how the words filled the speaker’s heart;
nor were there wanting indications of how deeply they had
touched the heart of him to whom they were addressed.

“ You say well,” returned Nicholas at length, “ and com¬
fort me very much, dear fellow. Let me hear you say you are
happy, if you can.”

“ I must tell you something first. I should not have a

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 539

secret from you. You will not blame me, at a time like this,
I know.”

“ I blame you ! ”

“ I am sure you will not. You asked me why I was so
changed, and — and sat so much alone. Shall I tell you
why ? ”

“ Not if it pains you; I only asked that I might make you
happier, if I could.”

“ I know. I felt that at the time.” He drew his friend
closer to him. “You will forgive me; I could not help it;
but though I would have died to make her happy, it broke
my heart to see — I know he loves her dearly — oh! who
could find that out so soon as I ! ”

The words which followed were feebly and faintly uttered,
and broken by long pauses; but from them, Nicholas learned
for the first time that the dying boy, with all the ardour of
a nature concentrated on one absorbing, hopeless, secret
passion, loved his sister Kate.

He had procured a lock of her hair, which hung at his
breast, folded in one or two slight ribbons she had worn.
He prayed that, when he was dead, Nicholas would take it
off, so that no eyes but his might see it, and that when he was
laid in his coffin and about to be placed in the earth, he would
hang it round his neck again, that it might rest with him
in the grave.

Upon his knees Nicholas gave him this pledge and promised
again that he should rest in the spot he had pointed out.
They embraced and kissed each other on the cheek.

“ Now,” he murmured, “ I am happy.”

He fell into a light slumber, and, waking, smiled as before;
then spoke of beautiful gardens, which he said stretched
out before him and were filled with figures of men, women,
and many children, all with light upon their faces; then,
whispered that it was Eden — and so died.

540

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XLI

RALPH sat alone in the solitary room where he was
accustomed to take his meals and to sit in the evening
when no profitable occupation called him abroad. Before
him was an untasted breakfast, and near the spot where his
fingers beat restlessly upon the table lay his watch. It was
long past the time at which, for many years, he had put it in
his pocket and gone with measured steps downstairs to the
business of the day, but he took as little heed of its monoto¬
nous warning as of the meat and drink before him, and re¬
mained with his head resting on one hand, and his eyes fixed
moodily on the ground.

“What is this that hangs over me?” he said. “I have
never pampered myself and I should not be ill. I have never
moped and pined, but what can a man do without rest ? ”

He pressed his hand upon his forehead.

“ Night after night comes and goes, and I have no rest.
If I sleep, what rest is that which is disturbed by constant
dreams of the same detested faces crowding round me — of
the same detested people? I must have rest. One night’s
unbroken rest, and I should be a man again.”

Pushing the table from him he noticed the watch, the hands
of which were almost upon noon.

“This is strange! Noon, and Noggs not here! What
drunken brawl keeps him away? I would give something
now — something in money even after that dreadful loss —
if he had stabbed a man in a tavern scuffle, or broken into a
house, or picked a pocket, or done anything that would send
him abroad with an iron ring upon his leg, and rid me of him.
Better still, if I could throw temptation in his way and lure
him on to rob me. He should be welcome to what he took
so I brought the law upon him; for he is a traitor, I swear!
How, or when, or where I don’t know, though I suspect.”

541

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

After waiting for another half-hour, he sent the woman
who kept his house to Newman’s lodging to inquire if he
were ill and why he had not come or sent. She brought
back answer that he had not been home all night and
that no one could tell her anything about him. Then she
added :

“ But there is a gentleman below, sir, who was standing
at the door when I came in, and he says - ”

“ What says he ? ” demanded Ralph, turning angrily upon
her. “ I told you I would see nobody.”

“ He says that he comes on very particular business which
admits of no excuse, and I thought perhaps it might be
about - ”

“ About what, in the devil’s name? ” said Ralph. “ You
spy and speculate on people’s business with me, do you? ”

“ Dear, no, sir! I saw you were anxious, and thought
it might be about Mr. Noggs; that’s all,” said the woman,
quite disturbed by his harsh manner.

“ Saw I was anxious! *” muttered Ralph; “ they all watch
me now. Where is this person ? You did not say I was not
down yet, I hope ? ”

The woman replied that he was in the little office and that
she had said her master was engaged, but she would take
the message.

“ Well, I’ll see him. Go you to your kitchen, and keep
there. Do you mind me ? ”

Glad to be released, the woman quickly disappeared, and
Ralph descended the stairs. After pausing for a few moments
with his hand upon the lock, he entered Newman’s room and
confronted Mr. Charles Cheeryble.

“ Humph ! ” said Ralph, pausing at the door. “ This is
an unexpected favour.”

“And an unwelcome one,” said Brother Charles; “an
unwelcome one, I know.”

“ Men say you are truth itself, sir,” said Ralph. “ You

542

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

speak truth now at all events, and Ell not contradict you.
The favour is as unwelcome as it is unexpected. I can
scarcely say more ! ”

“ Plainly, sir - ” began Brother Charles.

“ Plainly, sir,” interrupted Ralph, “ I wish this conference
to be a short one and to end where it begins. I guess the sub¬
ject upon which you are about to speak, and 141 not hear you.
You like plainness, I believe; there it is. Here is the door, as
you see. Our ways lie in very different directions. Take
yours, I beg of you, and leave me to pursue mine in quiet.”

“ In quiet ! ” repeated Brother Charles mildly, and looking
at him with more of pity than reproach. “To pursue his
way in quiet! ”

“ You will scarcely remain in my house, I presume, sir,
against my will, or you can scarcely hope to make an impres¬
sion upon a man who closes his ears to all that you can say
and is firmly determined not to hear you.”

“ Mr. Nickleby, I come here against my will. I have never
been in this house before, and have no wish ever to be here
again. You do not guess the subject on which I come. You
do not indeed. I am sure of that, or your manner would be
a very different one.”

Ralph glanced keenly at him, but the clear eye and open
countenance of the honest old merchant underwent no change
of . expression and met his look without reserve.

“ Shall I go on ? ” said Mr. Cheeryble.

“ Oh, by all means, if you please. Here are walls to speak
to, a desk, and two stools — most attentive auditors and
certain not to interrupt you. Go on, I beg; make my house
yours, and perhaps by the time I return from my walk, you
will have finished what you have to say, and will yield me up
possession again.”

So saying, he buttoned his coat, and turning into the
passage, took down his hat. The old gentleman followed and

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 543

was about to speak, when Ralph waved him off impatiently,
and said:

** Not a word; I tell you, sir, not a word. Virtuous as you
are, you are not an angel yet, to appear in men’s houses,
whether they will or no, and pour your speech into unwilling
ears. Preach to the walls, I tell you; not to me! ”

“ I am no angel, heaven knows,” returned Brother Charles,
“but an erring and imperfect man; nevertheless, there is
one quality which all men have, in common with angels,
mercy. It is an errand of mercy that brings me here. Let
me discharge it.”

“ I show no mercy,” retorted Ralph, with a triumphant
smile, “ and I ask none. Seek no mercy from me, sir, in
behalf of the fellow who has imposed upon you, but let him
expect the worst that I can do.”

“ He ask mercy at your hands,” exclaimed the old merchant
warmly, “ ask it at his, sir; ask it at his. If you will not hear
me now, hear me when you must. Your nephew is a noble
lad — an honest, noble lad. What you are, Mr. Nickleby, I
will not say; but what you have done, I know. Now, sir,
when you go about the business in which you have been
recently engaged and find it difficult of pursuing, come to me
and my brother Ned, and Tim Linkinwater, and we’ll explain
it for you — and come soon, or it may be too late ; and never
forget that I came here this morning, in mercy to you, and
am still ready to talk to you in the same spirit.”

With these words Brother Charles put on his broad-
brimmed hat and, passing Ralph Nickleby, trotted nimbly
into the street. Ralph looked after him, but neither moved
nor spoke for some time, when he broke the silence by a
scornful laugh.

“ This should be another of those dreams that have so
broken my rest of late. In mercy to me! Pho! The old
simpleton ha? gone mad.”

544

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Still he became more and more ill at ease as time passed
and no tidings of Newman Noggs arrived. After waiting
until late in the afternoon, he left home, and scarcely know¬
ing why, save that he was in a suspicious and agitated mood,
he betook himself to Snawley’s house. His wife came to the
door herself ; and of her Ralph inquired whether her husband
was at home.

“ No,” she said sharply, “ he is not indeed, and I don’t
think he will be at home for a very long time; that’s more.”

“ Do you know who I am? ” asked Ralph.

“ Oh, yes, I know you very well; too well, perhaps, and
perhaps he does too, and sorry am I that I should have to
say it.”

“ Tell him that I saw him through the window blind above
as I crossed the road just now and that I would speak to him
on business. Do you hear? ”

“ I hear,” rejoined Mrs. Snawley, taking no further notice
of the request.

“ I knew this woman was a hypocrite, in the way of psalms
and Scripture phrases,” said Ralph, passing quietly by,
“ but I never knew she drank before.”

“ Stop ! You don’t come in here,” said Mr. Snawley’s
better half, interposing her person, which was a robust one,
in the doorway. “ You have said more than enough to him on
business before now. I always told him what dealing with
you and working out your schemes would come to. It was
either you or the schoolmaster — one of you, or the two
between you — that got the forged letter done, remember
that! That wasn’t his doing, so don’t lay that at his door.”

“ Hold your tongue, you Jezebel,” said Ralph, looking
fearfully round.

“ Ah, I know when to hold my tongue, and when to speak,
Mr. Nickleby. Take care that other people know when to
hold their tongues.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

545

“You jade! If your husband has been idiot enough to
trust you with his secrets, keep them; keep them, she-devil
that you are! ”

“ Not so much his secrets as other people’s secrets, perhaps;
not so much his secrets as yours,” retorted the woman.
“ None of your black looks at me! You’ll want ’em all per¬
haps for another time. You had better keep ’em.”

“ Will you,” said Ralph, suppressing his passion as well
as he could, and clutching her tightly by the wrist, “ will you
go to your husband and tell him that I know he is at home
and that I must see him? And will you tell me what it is
that you and he mean by this new style of behaviour? ”

“ No,” replied the woman, violently disengaging herself.
“ I’ll do neither.”

“ You set me at defiance, do you? ” said Ralph.

“ Yes, I do.”

For an instant Ralph had his hand raised, as though he
were about to strike her, but checking himself, walked away.

He went straight to the inn which Mr. Squeers frequented
and inquired when he had been there last. But Mr. Squeers
had not been there for ten days, and all that the people could
tell about him was that he had left his luggage and his bill.

Disturbed by a thousand fears Ralph determined to hazard
the extreme step of inquiring for him at the Lambeth lodging,
where Peg Sliderskew had hidden herself and her stolen
papers, and having an interview with him even there. Being
perfectly acquainted with the situation of Squeers’s room,

. he crept upstairs and knocked gently at the door. Not one,
nor two, nor yet three, nor yet a dozen knocks served to
convince Ralph, against his wish, that there was nobody
inside. He waited quite a while, but there was not the
slightest sign of the schoolmaster.

Now, thoroughly alarmed, he went to the home of Arthur
Gride. There he found the windows close shut, the dingy

546

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

blinds drawn down, all silent, melancholy, and deserted. He
knocked gently at first — then loudly and vigorously. No¬
body came to the door. He wrote a few words in pencil
on a card and, having thrust it under the door, was going
away, when a noise above, as though a window were raised,
caught his ear and, looking up, he could just see the face of
Gride himself, cautiously looking out. Seeing who was
below, he quickly drew in his head, not so quickly, however,
but that Ralph let him know he was observed and called to
him to come down.

The call being repeated, Gride looked out again, so cau¬
tiously that no part of the old man’s body was visible. The
sharp features and white hair appearing alone, above the
parapet, looked like a severed head garnishing the wall.

“ Hush! ” he cried. “ Go away! Go away! ”

“ Come down,” said Ralph, beckoning him.

“ Go a-way ! ” squeaked Gride, shaking his head in
impatience. “ Don’t speak to me, don’t knock, don?t call
attention to the house, but go away.”'

“ I’ll knock till I have your neighbours up in arms, if you
don’t tell me what you mean by lurking there, you whining
cur,” said Ralph.

“ I can’t hear what you say — don’t talk to me — it isn’t
safe — go away — go away — go away! ” returned Gride.

“ Come down, I say. Will you come down? ”

“ No-o-o-o,” snarled Gride. He drew in his head, and left
Ralph standing in the street. He heard the window closed
gently and carefully.

“ How is this, that they all fall from me, and shun me like
the plague, these men who have licked the dust from my
feet! Is my day past, and is this indeed the coming on of
night? I’ll know what it means ! I will, at any cost. Iam
firmer and more myself just now than I have been these many
days.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

547

Turning from the door, he went towards the city and, work¬
ing his way steadily through the crowd which was pouring
from it, (it was by this time between five and six o’clock in
the afternoon), went straight to the house of business of the
Brothers Cheeryble. He found Tim Linkinwater alone.

“ My name’s Nickleby,” said Ralph.

“ I know it,” said Tim, surveying him through his spectacles.

“ Which of your firm was it who called on me this
morning ? ”

“ Mr. Charles.”

“ Then tell Mr. Charles I want to see him.”

“ You shall see,” said Tim, getting off his stool with great
agility, “ not only Mr. Charles, but Mr. Ned likewise.”

After a short interval he ushered Ralph into the presence
of the two brothers, and remained in the room himself.

“ I want to speak to you, who spoke to me this morning,”
said Ralph, pointing out with his finger the man whom he
addressed.

“ I have no secrets from my brother Ned, or from Tim
Linkinwater,” observed Brother Charles, quietly.

“ I have,” said Ralph.

“ Mr. Nickleby,” said Brother Ned, “ the matter upon
which my brother Charles called upon you this morning is
well known to us three, and to others besides, and must soon
become known to a great many more. If we confer together,
it must be as we are, or not at all.”

“ Well, gentlemen,” said Ralph, with a curl of the lip,
“ talking in riddles seems to be the peculiar style here. Well,
talk in company, then; I’ll humour you.”

“ Humour ! ” cried Tim Linkinwater, suddenly growing
very red in the face. “ He’ll humour us ! He’ll humour
Cheeryble Brothers ! Do you hear that ? Do you hear him ?
Do you hear him say he’ll humour Cheeryble Brothers ? ”

“ Tim,” said Charles and Ned together, “ Tim, don’t.”

548 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Tim, taking the hint, stifled his indignation as well as he
could.

“ As nobody bids me to a seat,” said Ralph, looking round,
“ I’ll take one, for I am tired with walking. And now,
gentlemen, if you please, I wish to know — I demand to
know — what you have to say to me. I tell you plainly that
I don’t choose to submit quietly to slander and malice.”

“ Very well, sir,” said Brother Charles. “ Very well.
Brother Ned, will you ring the bell? ”

“ Charles, stop one instant. It will be better for Mr.
Nickleby and for our object that he should remain silent
if he can, till we have said what we have to say. I wish him
to understand that.”

Ralph smiled, but made no reply. The bell was rung. The
room door opened. A man came in with a halting walk and,
looking round, Ralph’s eyes met those of Newman Noggs.
From that moment his heart began to fail him.

“ This is a good beginning,” he said, bitterly. “ Oh, this
is a good beginning! You are honest, open-hearted men,
fair dealing and candid! I always knew the real worth of
such characters as yours! To tamper with a fellow like
this, who would sell his soul (if he had one) for a drink, and
whose every word is a lie! What men are safe, if this is
done? Oh, it’s a good beginning! ”

“ I will speak,” cried Newman, standing on tiptoe to look
over Tim’s head, who had interposed to prevent him.
“ Hallo, you sir — old Nickleby ! — What do you mean when
you talk of ‘ a fellow like this ’ ? Who made me a f fellow
like this ’ ? If I would sell my soul for drink, why wasn’t I
a thief, swindler, housebreaker, robber of pence out of the
trays of blind men’s dogs rather than your drudge and pack-
horse? If my every word was a lie, why wasn’t I a pet
and favourite of yours? Lie! When did I ever cringe and
fawn to you? Tell me that! I served you faithfully. I did

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

549

more work, because I was poor, and took more hard words
from you than any man you could have got from the poor-
house. I did. I served you because I was proud, because I
was a lonely man with you and there were no other drudges
to see my degradation; because nobody knew, better than
you, that I was a ruined man, that I hadn’t always been what
I am, and that I might have been better off if I hadn’t been
a fool and fallen into the hands of you and others who were
knaves. Do you deny that? ”

“ Gently,” reasoned Tim, “ you said you wouldn’t.”

“ I said I wouldn’t! ” cried Newman, thrusting him aside.
“ Don’t tell me! Here, you Nickleby! Don’t pretend not
to mind me; it won’t do; I know better. You were talking
of tampering, just now. Who tampered with Yorkshire
schoolmasters and, while they sent the drudge out that he
shouldn’t overhear, forgot that such great caution might
render him suspicious, and that he might watch his master
out at nights, and might set other eyes to watch the school¬
master? Who tampered with a selfish father, urging him
to sell his daughter to old Arthur Gride, and tampered with
Gride, too, and did so in the little office with a closet in the
room f ”

Ralph had great command upon himself but could not
suppress a slight start.

“Aha! ” cried Newman, “you mind me now, do you?
I’m here now because these gentlemen thought it best. When
I sought them out (as I did; there was no tampering with me) ,
I told them I wanted help to find you out, to trace you down,
to go through with what I had begun, to help the right, and
that, when I had done it, I’d burst into your room and tell
you all, face to face, man to man, and like a man. Now
I’ve said my say, and let anybody else say theirs, and fire
away! ”

With this, Newman Noggs became upright and motionless

550 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

and so remained, staring at Ralph Nickleby with all his might
and main.

Ralph looked at him for an instant, and for an instant
only; then waved his hand and, beating the ground with his
foot, said in a choking voice:

“ Go on, gentlemen, go on! I’m patient, you see. There’s
law to be had, there’s law. I shall call you to account
for this. Take care what you say. I shall make you
prove it.”

“ The proof is ready,” returned Brother Charles, “ quite
ready to our hands. The man Snawley last night made
a confession.”

“ Who may ‘ the man Snawley ’ be,” returned Ralph, “ and
what may his ‘ confession ’ have to do with my affairs ? ”

To this inquiry the old gentleman returned no answer,
but went on to say that, to show how much they were in
earnest, it would be necessary to tell him not only what
accusations were against him, but what proof of them they
had, and how that proof had been acquired. All discoveries
were now related to Ralph in detail. Whatever impression
they produced, he allowed no sign of emotion to escape him,
but sat perfectly still, not raising his frowning eyes from the
ground, and covering his mouth with his hand. When the
narrative was concluded, he raised his head hastily, as if
about to speak, but Brother Charles said:

“ I told you this morning that I came to you in mercy.
How far you may be implicated, or how far the person
Squeers, now in prison, may incriminate you, you best know.
But justice must take its course against the persons plotting
against this poor, unoffending, injured boy. It is not in
our power to save you from the consequences. The utmost
we can do is to warn you in time and to give you an oppor¬
tunity of escaping them. We would not have an old man
like you disgraced and punished by your near relation. We
entreat you to leave London, to take shelter in some place

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

551

where you will be safe from the consequences of these wicked
designs, and where you may have time, sir, to atone for them
and to become a better man.”

“ And do you think,” returned Ralph, rising, “ you will
so easily crush me f Do you think that a hundred well-
arranged plans, or a hundred witnesses, or a hundred false
curs at my heels, or a hundred canting speeches full of oily
words will move me? I thank you for disclosing your
schemes, which I am now prepared for. You have not the
man to deal with that you think. Try me! And remember
that I spit upon your fair words and false dealings, and dare
you — provoke you — taunt you — to do me the very worst
you can - ”

Thus they parted, for that time; but the worst had not
come yet.

Instead of going home, Ralph took the first cab he could
find and went to the police office of the district in which Mr.
Squeers’s misfortunes had occurred. Inquiring for the object
of his solicitude, he was ushered into a kind of waiting room
in which, by reason of his scholastic profession and superior
respectability, Mr. Squeers had been permitted to pass the
day. Here by the light of a candle he could barely be seen,
fast asleep on a bench in the corner. An empty glass stood
on the table, and there was a very strong smell of brandy
in the room. It was very evident that the schoolmaster had
been seeking a temporary forgetfulness of his unpleasant
situation.

It was not a very easy matter to rouse him, so heavy were
his slumbers. Regaining his faculties by slow and faint
glimmerings, he at length sat upright, displaying a very yellow
face, a very red nose, and a very bristly beard. The general
effect was heightened by a dirty white handkerchief, spotted
with blood, drawn over the crown of his head, and tied under
his chin. He stared ruefully at Ralph in silence, until his
feelings found vent in this pithy sentence :

552 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ I say, young fellow, you’ve been and done it now, you
have! ”

“ What’s the matter with your head?” asked Ralph.

“ Why, your man, your informing, kidnapping man, has
been and broke it,” rejoined Squeers, sulkily; “ that’s what’s
the matter with it. You’ve come at last, have you? ”

“ Why didn’t you send for me? How could I come till I
knew what had befallen you ? ”

“ My family! ” hiccupped Mr. Squeers, raising his eye
to the ceiling; “my daughter, as is at that age when all
the sensibilities is a’coming out strong in blow — my son as
is the pride and ornament of a doting willage — here’s a shock
for my family! The coat of arms of the Squeerses is tore,
and their sun is gone down into the ocean wave ! ”

* “ You have been drinking and have not yet slept yourself
sober.”

“I haven’t been drinking your health, my codger, so
you have nothing to do with that,” replied Squeers.

Ralph suppressed the indignation which the schoolmaster’s
insolent manner awakened and asked again why he had not
sent to him.

“ What should I get by sending to you? To be known to
be in with you wouldn’t do me a deal of good, and they won’t
take bail till they know something more of the case, so
here I am hard and fast; and there are you, loose and com¬
fortable.”

“ And so must you be, in a few days,” retorted Ralph, with
affected good humour. “They can’t hurt you, man.”

“ Why, I suppose they can’t do much to me, if I explain
how it was that I got into the good company of that ca¬
daverous old Slider, who I wish was dead and buried, and
resurrected and dissected, and hung upon wires in a museum,
before I’d had anything to do with her. This is what the
judge says to me this morning:

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

553

Prisoner ! As you have been found in company with
this woman who stole some papers, as you were detected in
possession of a stolen document, as you were engaged with
her in fraudulently destroying others, and can give no satis¬
factory account of yourself, I shall remand you for a week
that inquiries may be made, and evidence got. And mean¬
while, I can’t take any bail for your appearance.’ Well then,
what I say now is that I can give a satisfactory account
of myself; I can hand in the card of my establishment and
say, ‘ I am the Wackford Squeers as is therein named, sir.
I am the man as is guaranteed to be an out-and-outer in
morals and uprightness of principle. Whatever is wrong
in this business is no fault of mine. I had no evil designs in
it, sir. I was not aware that anything was wrong. I was
merely employed by a friend, Mr. Ralph Nickleby.. Send
for him, sir, and ask him what he has to say; he’s the man,
not me! ”

“ What document was it that you had? ” inquired Ralph.

“What document? Why, the document. The Madeline
what’s-her-name one. It was a will, that’s what it was.”

“ Of what nature, whose will, when dated, how benefiting
her, to what extent ? ” asked Ralph hurriedly.

“ A will in her favour; that’s all I know; and that’s more
than you’d have known, if you’d had them bellows on your
head. It’s all owing to your precious caution that they got
hold of it. If you had let me burn it and taken my word
that it was gone, it would have been a heap of ashes behind
the fire, instead of being whole and sound inside of my great¬
coat.”

“Beaten at every point! ” muttered Ralph.

“ Ah ! ” sighed Squeers, who, between the brandy and water
and his broken head, wandered strangely, “ at the delightful
village of Dotheboys, youth are boarded, clothed, booked,
washed, furnished with pocket money, provided with all

554

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

necessaries, instructed in all languages, living and dead,
mathematics, orthography, geometry, astronomy, trigo¬
nometry — this is a altered state of trigonomics, this is! A
double L — all, everything — a cobbler’s weapon; U-P —
up, adjective, not down; iS-g-w-doublee-r-s — Squeers, noun
substantive, a educator of youth. Total, all up with
Squeers! ”

His running on in this way had given Ralph an opportunity
of recovering his presence of mind, which suggested the
necessity of removing the schoolmaster’s fear and leading
him to believe that his safety lay in keeping perfectly silent
about the whole affair.

“ I tell you once again they can’t hurt you. You shall sue
them for false imprisonment and make a profit of this yet.
We will devise a story for you that should carry you through
twenty times such a trivial scrape as this. And if they want
bail in a thousand pounds for your reappearance in case you
should be called upon, you shall have it. All you have to
do is to keep back the truth. You’re a little confused tonight
and may not be able to see things as you would at another
time; but this is what you must do; don’t tell anything;
and you’ll need all your senses about you, for a slip might
be awkward.”

“ Oh ! ” said Squeers, who had looked cunningly at him,
with his head on one side like an old raven. “ That’s what
I’m to do, is it ? Now then, just you hear a word or two from
me. I ain’t a’going to have any stories made for me, and
I ain’t a’going to stick to any. If I find matters going again
me, I shall expect you to take your share, and I’ll take care
you do. You never said anything about danger. I never
bargained for being brought into such a plight as this, and
I don’t mean to take it as quiet as you think. If all goes
well now, that’s quite correct, and I don’t mind it, but if any¬
thing goes wrong, then times are altered, and I shall just

555

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

say and do whatever may serve me best. — My moral in¬
fluence with them lads is a’tottering to its basis. The images
of Mrs. Squeers, my daughter, and my son Wackford, all
short of vittles, is perpetually before me! ”

How long Mr. Squeers might have declaimed nobody
knows. Being interrupted at this point by an attendant, he
perched his hat wTith great dignity on the top of the hand¬
kerchief that bound his head and, thrusting one hand in his
pocket and taking the attendant’s.arm with the other, allowed
himself to be led away.

“ As I supposed from his not sending,” thought Ralph,
“ this fellow has made up his mind to turn upon me. I am
so beset and hemmed in that they are all struck with fear
and, like the beasts in the fable, have their fling at me now,
though time was, and no longer ago than yesterday, too,
when they were all civility and compliance. But they shall
not move me. I’ll not give way. I will not budge one
inch! ”

He went home and was glad to find his housekeeper com¬
plaining of illness that he might have an excuse for being alone
and sending her home. Then he sat down by the light of a
single candle and began to think, for the first time, on all that
had taken place that day.

He felt sick and exhausted, but could taste nothing except
a glass of water and continued to sit with his head upon his
hand, feeling that every sense but one of weariness and deso¬
lation was benumbed. It was nearly ten o’clock when he
heard a knocking at the door. It had been often repeated
before he could rouse himself and go downstairs.

“■ Mr. Nickleby, there is terrible news for you, and I am
sent to beg you will come with me directly,” said a voice he
seemed to recognise. He held his hand above his eyes and,
looking out, saw Tim Linkinwater on the steps.

“ Come where? ” demanded Ralph.

556

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Come to our house, where you came this morning. I
have a coach here.”

“ Why should I come there? ” said Ralph.

“ Don’t ask me why, but please come.”

u Another edition of today ! ” returned Ralph, making as
though he would shut the door.

“ No, no!” cried Tim, catching him by the arm and
speaking most earnestly; “it is only that you may hear
something that has occurred — something very dreadful,
Mr. Nickleby, which concerns you nearly. Do you think I
would tell you so or come to you like this if it were not the
case ? ”

Ralph looked at him closely. Seeing that he was greatly ex¬
cited, he faltered and could not tell what to say or think.
After a moment’s hesitation he went into the hall for his hat
and, returning, got into the coach without speaking a word.

Arrived at their place of destination, Ralph followed his
conductor into the house and into a room where the two
brothers were. Having taken a seat, he said:

“ What — what have you to say to me — more than has
been said already ? ”

The room was old and large, very imperfectly lighted, and
terminated in a bay window about which hung some heavy
drapery. Casting his eyes in this direction, he thought he
made out the dusky figure of a man. He was confirmed in
this impression by seeing that the object moved, as if uneasy
under his scrutiny.

“ Who’s that yonder? ” he said.

“ One who has conveyed to us within these two hours the
intelligence which caused our sending to you,” said Brother
Charles. “ Let him be, sir; let him be for the present.”

“More riddles! ” said Ralph, faintly. “Well, sir?”

The brothers conferred apart for a short time, their manner
showing that they were agitated. Ralph glanced at them

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

557

twice or thrice and finally said with a great effort to recover
his self-possession, “Now, what is ‘this? If I am brought
from home at this time of night, let it be for something..
What have you got to tell me ? ” After a short pause, he
added, “ Is my niece dead ? ”

He had struck upon a key which rendered the task of
commencement an easier one. Brother Charles turned and
said that it was a death of which they had to tell him, but
that his niece was well.

“ You don’t mean to tell me that her brother is dead,”
said Ralph, as his eyes brightened. “No, that’s too good.
I’d not believe it, if you told me so. It would be too welcome
news to be true.”

“ Shame on you, you hardened and unnatural man,” cried
Brother Ned, warmly. “ Prepare yourself for intelligence
which will make even you shrink and tremble. What if we
tell you that a poor unfortunate boy, a warm-hearted,
affectionate creature, who never offended you, or did you
any harm, sinking under your persecution and the misery
and ill usage of a life short in years but long in suffering, has
gone to tell his sad tale where, for your part in it, you must
surely answer?”

“ If you tell me that he is dead, I forgive you all else,”
said Ralph. “ If you tell me that he is dead, I am in your
debt and bound to you for life. He is! I see it in your
faces. Who triumphs now? Is this your dreadful news
— this your terrible intelligence? You see how it moves me.
You did well to send. I would have travelled a hundred miles
afoot, through mud, mire, and darkness, to hear this news
just at this time.”

Even then, moved as he was by this savage joy, Ralph
could see in the faces of the two brothers, mingling with
their look of disgust and horror, something of that indefinable
compassion for himself which he had noticed before.

558

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ And he brought you the intelligence, did he ? ” said Ralph,
pointing with his finger towards the bay window ; “ and sat
there to see me prostrated and overwhelmed by it! Ha,
ha, ha! But I tell him that I’ll be a sharp thorn in his side
for many a long day to come; and I tell you two, again, that
you don’t know him yet and that you’ll rue the day you
took compassion on the vagabond.”

“You take me for your nephew,” said a hollow voice;

“ it would be better for you and for me, too, if I were he
indeed.”

The figure that he had seen so dimly rose and came slowly
forward.

He started back, for he found that he confronted — not
Nicholas, as he had supposed, but Brooker.

Ralph had no reason, that he knew, to fear this man; yet he
trembled, and his voice changed as he said:

“ What does this fellow here ? Do you know he is a
convict, a felon, a common thief ? ”

“ Hear what he has to tell you, Mr. Nickleby; hear what
he has to tell you, be he what he may! ” cried the brothers
with such emphatic earnestness that Ralph turned to them
in wonder. They pointed to Brooker. Ralph again gazed
at him.

“ That boy,” said the man, “ that these gentlemen have been
talking of - ”

“ That boy,” repeated Ralph, looking vacantly at him.

“ Whom I saw, stretched dead and cold upon his bed and
who is now in his grave - ”

“ Who is now in his grave,” echoed Ralph.

The man raised his eyes and clasped his hands solemnly

together: “ - Was your only son, so help me God in

heaven! ”

In the midst of a dead silence Ralph pressed his two
hands upon his temples. He removed them, after a minute,
and never was there seen a more ghastly face. He looked at

559

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Brooker, who was at this time standing at a short distance
from him, but did not say one word or make the slightest
sound or gesture.

“ Gentlemen,” said the man, “ I offer no excuses for myself.
I am long past that. If in telling you how this has happened,
I tell you that I was harshly used and perhaps driven out of
my real nature, I do it only as a necessary part of my story,
and not to shield myself. I am a guilty man.”

He stopped as if to recollect and, looking away from Ralph,
and addressing himself to the brothers, proceeded in a sub¬
dued and humble tone :

About twenty qr twenty-five years ago a rough, fox¬
hunting, hard-drinking gentleman had dealings with Ralph
Nickleby. This gentleman had run through his own fortune
and wanted to squander away that of his sister who lived
with him and managed his house. She was handsome and
entitled to a pretty large property. In course of time Ralph
Nickleby married her. But they kept the marriage secret,
for a clause in her father’s will declared if she married without
her brother’s consent the property should pass to another
branch of the family. The result of this private marriage
was a son. The child was put out to nurse a long way off.
The wife remained alone in a dull country house, seeing little
or no company but drunken sportsmen. Ralph Nickleby
lived in London and clung to his business. He would never
consent to have the marriage become known, for he did not
want to lose any money. When they had been married
nearly seven years and were within a few weeks’ time of the
brother’s death, his wife eloped with a younger man, but
died soon after. — I was sent to bring the child, a little boy,
to the home of Ralph Nickleby, and I did so, putting him
in the front garret. Neglect had made him very sickly, and
I was obliged to call in a doctor. At this time no one but
myself was in the house. He had gone in search of his wife,
whom he never found. He was gone six weeks.”

560 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

He went on, from this point, in a still more humble tone,

and spoke in a very low voice.

“ Ralph Nickleby had used me cruelly, and I hated him.
When the doctor said the child must have a change of air
or he would die, I thought of a plan of revenge. I took the
child to the school of Mr. Squeers and told his father, when
he returned, that the child was dead. I planned very suc¬
cessfully, for no one doubted that the child was dead and
buried. I gave the boy the name of Smike. He might have
been disappointed in some intention, or he might have had
natural affection, but Ralph Nickleby was grieved to hear
about the death of his only child. I made up my mind that
I would open up the secret some day and make it the means
of getting money from him. For six years I paid money
to the man Squeers, and then I was sent away for eight years
as a convict. As soon as I came home, I travelled down into
Yorkshire and made inquiries around the school, finding
that Smike had run away with a young man bearing the name
of his own father. I sought out the father in London, but he
repulsed me with threats. I then found out his clerk. One
day I went down into the country where I had heard that
Smike had been taken for his health. He saw me and recog¬
nised me. He had good cause to remember me, poor boy!

I would have sworn that he was the same boy if I had met
him in the Indies. I knew the piteous face I had seen in the
little child. A few days later, I applied to the young man
in whose care he was and found that the boy was dead. This
young man knows that I was recognised.

“ This is my story. I demand to be brought face to face
with the schoolmaster, and I will show that it’s too true and
that I have this guilt upon my soul. This confession can
bring nothing upon me but new suffering and punishment.
I have been made the instrument of working out this dread¬
ful retribution upon the head of a man who has persecuted

561

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

and hunted to death his own child. My reparation comes
too late; and neither in this world nor in the next can I have
hope again ! ”

He had hardly spoken when the lamp was thrown to the
ground, and they were left in darkness. There was some
trifling confusion in obtaining another light; but when the
light appeared, Ralph Nickleby was gone.

CHAPTER XLII

ON the morning after Brooker’s disclosure Nicholas re¬
turned home. In the meeting between him and those
whom he had left there was strong emotion on both sides,
for they had been informed by his letters of what had
occurred.

“ I am sure,” said Mrs. Nickleby, wiping her eyes and
sobbing bitterly, “I have lost the best, the most zealous,
and most attentive creature that has ever been a companion
to me in my life — putting you, my dear Nicholas, and Kate,
and your poor papa, and that well-behaved nurse, who ran
away with the linen and the twelve small forks, out of the
question, of course. It will be a comfort to you, my dear
Nicholas, to recollect how kind and good you always were
to him. It wras very natural you should have been attached
to him, my dear — very — and, of course, you were, and are
very much cut up by this. I am sure it’s only necessary to
look at you and see how changed you are, to see that; but
nobody knows what my feelings are — nobody can.”

While Mrs. Nickleby gave vent to her sorrows after her
own peculiar fashion of considering herself foremost, Kate,
although well accustomed to forget herself when others were
to be considered, could not repress her grief. Madeline was

562 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

scarcely less moved than she; and poor, hearty little Miss La
Creevy, who had come up on one of her visits while Nicholas
was away, no sooner beheld him coming in at the door than
she sat herself down upon the stairs and, bursting into a
flood of tears, refused for a long time to be comforted.

“ It hurts me so,” cried the poor body, “ to see him come
back alone. I can’t help thinking what he must have suffered
himself. I wouldn’t mind so much if he gave way a little
more, but he bears it so manfully.”

“ Why, so I should, shouldn’t I?” said Nicholas.

“ Yes, yes, and bless you for a good creature; but this does
seem to a simple soul like me such a poor reward for all you
have done.”

“ Why,” said Nicholas, gently, “ what better reward could
I have than the knowledge that his last days were peaceful
and happy and the recollection that I was his constant com¬
panion and was not prevented from being beside him.”

“ To be sure,” sobbed Miss La Creevy; “it’s very true,
and I’m ungrateful, I know.”

Waiting until they were all tolerably quiet and composed
again, Nicholas, who stood in need of rest, retired to his own
room and, throwing himself, dressed as he was, upon the
bed, fell into a sound sleep. When he awoke, he found
Kate sitting by his bedside, who, seeing that he had opened
his eyes, stooped down to kiss him, saying :

“ I came to tell you how glad I am to see you home again.”

“ But I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Kate.”

“ We have been wearying so for your return; mama and
I, and — Madeline.”

“ You said in your last letter that she was quite well,” said
Nicholas, rather hastily and colouring as he spoke. “ Has
nothing been said since I have been away about any future
arrangements that the brothers have in contemplation for
her?”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 563

“ Oh, not a word. I can’t think of parting from her without
sorrow; and surely, Nicholas, you don’t wish it! ”

“ No, Kate; no, I do not. I might strive to disguise my
real feelings from anybody but you; but I will tell you that
— briefly and plainly, Kate — I love her.”

Kate’s eyes brightened, and she was going to make some
reply when Nicholas laid his hand upon her arm and went
on:

“ Nobody must know this but you. She, last of all.”

“ Dear Nicholas ! ”

“ Last of all; never, though never is a long day. No, Kate!
Since I have been absent, I have had perpetually before my
eyes, the munificent liberality of these noble brothers. As
far as in me lies, I will deserve it. If I have wavered in my
duty to them before, I am now determined to discharge it
rigidly and to put further delays and temptations beyond my
reach.”

“ Before you say another word, dear Nicholas,” said Kate,
turning pale, “ you must hear what I have to tell you. I
came on purpose, but I had not the courage. What you say
now gives me new heart.” She faltered and seemed unable
to express what she wished to say.

There was that in her manner which prepared Nicholas
for what was coming. Kate tried to speak, but her tears
prevented her.

“ Come, you foolish girl. Why, Kate, Kate, be a woman!
I think I know what you would tell me. It concerns Mr.
Frank, doesn’t it ? ”

Kate sank her head upon his shoulder, and sobbed out,
“ Yes.”

“ And he has offered you his hand, perhaps, since I have
been away; is that it? Yes. Well, well; it’s not so difficult,
you see, to tell me, after all. He offered you his hand ? ”

“ Which I refused,” said Kate.

564

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“Yes; and why? ”

“ I told him,” she said, in a trembling voice, “ all that I
have since found you told mama; and while I could not
conceal from him, and cannot from you, that — that it was
a pang and a great trial, I did so firmly and begged him not
to see me any more.”

“ That’s my own brave Kate! ” said Nicholas, pressing her
to his breast. “ I knew you would.”

“He tried to alter my resolution and declared that he
would not only inform his uncles of the step he had taken,
but would tell you, as soon as you returned. I am afraid,”
she added, her momentary composure forsaking her, “ I am
afraid I may not have said strongly enough how deeply I
felt such disinterested love and how earnestly I prayed for
his future happiness. If you do talk together, I should — I
should like him to know that.”

“And did you suppose, Kate, when you had made this
sacrifice to what you knew was right and honourable, that I
should shrink from mine?” said Nicholas tenderly.

“ Oh, no ! not if your position had been the same, but - ”

“ But it is the same,” interrupted Nicholas. “ Madeline
is not the near relation of our benefactors, but she is closely
bound to them by ties as dear. I was first entrusted with
her history because they placed unbounded confidence in
me and believed that I was as true as steel. How base it
would be of me to take advantage of the circumstances that
placed her here. I have determined to remove this weight
from my mind. I doubt whether I have not done wrong,
even now. Today I shall disclose my real reasons to Mr.
Cheeryble and ask him to take measures for removing this
young lady to the shelter of some other roof.”

“ Today ? So very soon ! ”

“ I have thought of this for weeks, and why should I post¬
pone it? You would not dissuade me, Kate, would you? ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

565

“ You may grow rich yourself, some time, Nicholas”

“ Yes, I may grow rich - ” repeated her brother with

a mournful smile, “ and I may grow old ! But rich or poor,
old or young, you and I will ever be the same to each other,
and in that our comfort lies. Don’t you think I shall be
doing right, Kate ? ”

“ Quite, quite right, dear brother ; and I cannot tell you
how happy I am that I have acted as you would have had me.”

“ You don’t regret? ”

“N — n — no,” said Kate timidly, tracing some pattern
upon the ground with her foot. “ I don’t regret having done
what was honourable and right, of course; but I do regret
that it should ever have happened — at least, sometimes I
regret it, and sometimes I — I don’t know what I say. I am
but a weak girl, Nicholas, and it has agitated me very much.”

If Nicholas had had ten thousand pounds at the minute,
he would, in his generous affection, have given it all to his
sister. But all he could do was to comfort and console her
by kind words ; and words they were of such love and cheer¬
ful encouragement that Kate threw her arms about his neck
and declared she would weep no more.

“ What man,” thought Nicholas proudly, while on his
way soon afterwards to the brothers’ house, “ would not be
sufficiently rewarded for any sacrifice of fortune, by the pos¬
session of such a heart as Kate’s, which is beyond all praise.
Frank has money and wants no more. Where would it buy
him such a treasure as Kate ! And yet, in unequal marriages,
the rich person is always supposed to make a great sacrifice,
and the other to get a good bargain ! But I am thinking like
a lover, or like an ass : which I suppose is pretty nearly the
same thing.”

Checking thoughts so little adapted to the business on
which he was bound, he proceeded on his way and presented
himself before Tim Linkinwater.

566

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

•

“Ah! Mr. Nickleby! God bless you! How d’ye do!
Well? Say you’re quite well and never better. Do now.”

“ Quite well,” said Nicholas, shaking him by both hands.

“ Ah! you look tired, though, now I come to look at you.
I didn’t mean to ask you, but I should like to hear a few
particulars about that poor boy. Did he mention Cheeryble
Brothers at all? ”

“ Yes, many and many a time.”

“ That was right of him,” returned Tim, wiping his eyes;
“ that was very right of him.”

“ And he mentioned your name a score of times, and often
told me to carry back his love to Mr. Linkinwater.”

“ No, no, did he though? ” rejoined Tim, sobbing outright.
“ Poor fellow ! I wish we could have had him buried in
town. And he sent his love to me, did he? I didn’t expect
he would have thought of me. Poor fellow, poor fellow I His
love, too! ”

Tim was so completely overcome by this little mark of
recollection that he was quite unequal to any more conver¬
sation at the moment. Nicholas therefore slipped quietly
out and went to Brother Charles’s room.

The warm welcome, the hearty manner, the unaffected
commiseration of the good old merchant went to' his heart,
and he could not help showing it. For a few moments he
could not speak.

“ Come, come, my dear sir,” said Brother Charles at length,
“we must not be cast down. No, no! We must learn to
bear misfortune, and we must remember that there are many
sources of consolation even in death. Every day that this
poor lad had lived he must have been less and less qualified
for the world and more and more unhappy in his own
deficiencies. It is better as it is, my dear sir. Yes, yes, yes,
it’s better as it is.”

“ I have thought of all that, sir, I assure you,” replied
Nicholas.

567

NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y

“ Yes, that’s well, that’s well. — Where is my brother Ned,
Tim Linkinwater ? ”

“ Gone out to see about getting that unfortunate man into
the hospital and sending a nurse to his children,” said Tim.

“My brother Ned is a fine fellow, a great fellow! ” ex¬
claimed Brother Charles as he shut the door and returned to
Nicholas. “ He will be overjoyed to see you. We have
been speaking of you every day.”

“ To tell you the truth I am glad to find you alone,” said
Nicholas, with some natural hesitation; “ for I am anxious
to say something to you. Can you spare me a very few
minutes ? ”

“ Surely, surely. Say on, my dear sir, say on.”

“ I scarcely know how or where to begin. If ever a person
had reason to love and reverence another with such attach¬
ment as would make the hardest service a pleasure and a
delight, that is the feeling which I should have for you, and
do, from my heart and soul.”

“ I believe you, and I am happy in the belief. I have
never doubted it; I never shall. I am sure I never shall.”

“ Your telling me that so kindly emboldens me to proceed.
When you first told me about Miss Bray, I should have told
you that I had seen her long before; that she had made an
impression upon me which I could not efface, and that I had
fruitlessly endeavoured to find her and become acquainted
with her. I did not tell you about this, because I thought I
should be able to conquer my own feelings and only think
of my duty to you.”

“ Mr. Nickleby, you did not violate the confidence I placed
in you, or take an unworthy advantage of it. I am sure you
did not.”

“ I did not, although I found that the necessity for self-
command and restraint became greater every day. I never
for one instant deserted my trust, nor have I to this time.
I never for one instant spoke or looked but as I would have

568

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

done had you been by. But I find that constant association
with this sweet girl is fatal to my peace of mind. In fact
I am afraid I might not be able longer to keep my feeling
unknown to her, and I ask you to remove this young lady from
under the charge of my mother and sister without delay.
Who can see her as I have seen, who can know what her life
has been, and not love her ? I have no excuse but that ; and
as I cannot fly from this temptation, and cannot repress this
love with its object constantly before me, what can I do but
ask you to remove it and to leave me to forget her! ”

“ Mr. Nickleby, you can do no more. I was wrong to
expose a young man like you to this trial. I might have
foreseen what would happen. Thank you, sir, thank you.
Madeline shall be removed,” said the old merchant.

“ If you would grant me one favour, by never revealing to

her this confession, so she would still remember me with - ”

“ I will take care. And is this all you have to tell me? ”

“ No! ” returned Nicholas, meeting his eye, “ it is not.”

“ I know the rest, which concerns Frank,” said Mr. Cheery-
ble, apparently much relieved by this prompt reply. “ When
did it come to your knowledge ? ”

“ When I reached home this morning.”

“ You felt it your duty immediately to come to me and
tell me what your sister, no doubt, acquainted you with ? ”
“ I did, though I could have wished to have spoken to
Mr. Frank first.”

“ Frank told me last night. You have done well, Mr.
Nickleby — very well — and I thank you again.”

Nicholas requested permission to add a few words. He
hoped that nothing he had said would lead to the estrange¬
ment of Kate and Madeline, who had formed an attachment
for each other. When these- things were all forgotten, he
hoped that Frank and he might still be warm friends.

* * *

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

569

Creeping from the house and slinking off like a thief, Ralph
Nickleby left the City behind him, and took the road to his
own home. The night was dark, and a cold wind blew, driving
the clouds furiously and fast before it. There was one black
gloomy mass that seemed to follow him. He often looked
back at this and, more than once, stopped to let it pass over;
but somehow, when he went forward again, it was still behind
him, coming mournfully and slowly up, like a shadowy
funeral train.

As he drew nearer and nearer home, he began to think how
very dull and solitary the house would be inside. This
feeling became so strong at last that, when he reached his
own door, he could hardly make up his mind to turn the
key and open it. When he had done that and gone into the
passage, he felt as though to shut it again would be to shut
out the world. But he let it go, and it closed with a loud noise.
There was no light. How very dreary, cold, and still it was!

Shivering from head to foot, he made his way upstairs
into the room where he had been last disturbed. He had
made a kind of compact with himself that he would not
think of what had happened until he got home. He was at
home now and allowed himself to consider it.

His own child, his own child! He never doubted the tale;
he felt it was true. His own child, and dead too. Dying
beside Nicholas, loving him, and looking upon him as some¬
thing like an angel ! That was the worst.

They had all turned from him and deserted him in his
very first need. Even money could not buy them now.
Everything must come out, and everybody must know all.

If he had known his child to be alive ; if no deceit had ever
been practised, and he had grown up beneath his eye, he
might have been a careless, indifferent, rough, harsh father,
but he might have been otherwise, and his son might have
been a comfort to him and they two happy together. He

570

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

began to think now that his supposed death and his wife’s
flight had had some share in making him the morose, hard
man he was. He seemed to remember a time when he was
not quite so rough and obdurate. His hatred of Nicholas
had been fed upon his own defeat. There were reasons for
its increase; it had grown and strengthened gradually. Now
it attained a height which was sheer, wild lunacy. That his,
of all others, should have been the hands to rescue his miser¬
able child; that he should have been his protector and faith¬
ful friend; that he should have shown him that love and
tenderness which, from the wretched moment of his birth,
he had never known; that Nicholas should have taught him
to hate his own parent and execrate his very name; that he
should now know and feel all this, and triumph in the recollec¬
tion was gall and madness to the usurer’s heart. The dead
boy’s love for Nicholas and the attachment of Nicholas for
him were insupportable agony. The picture of his deathbed,
with Nicholas at his side, tending and supporting him, and
he breathing out his thanks and expiring in his arms, when
he would have had them mortal enemies and hating each other
to the last, drove him frantic. He gnashed his teeth and
smote the air and, looking wildly round with eyes which
gleamed through the darkness, cried aloud:

“ I am trampled down and ruined. The wretch told me
true. The night has come! Is there no way to rob them
of further triumph and spurn their mercy and compassion?
Is there no devil to help me?”

He spoke no more but, after a pause, softly groped his
way out of the room and up the echoing stairs — up to the
top — to the front garret — where he closed the door behind
him and remained.

It was a mere lumber room now, but it yet contained an
old bedstead, the one on which his son had slept. He avoided
it hastily and sat down as far from it as he could.

571

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

By the glare of the lights in the streets below could be seen
old corded trunks and broken furniture scattered about. The
room had a shelving roof, high in one part, and at another
descending almost to the floor. It was towards the highest
part that Ralph directed his eyes, and upon it he kept them
fixed steadily for some minutes. Then he rose and, dragging
thither an old chest upon which he had been seated, mounted
on it and felt along the wall above his head with both hands.
At length they touched a large iron hook, firmly driven into
one of the beams.

At that moment he was interrupted by a loud knocking
at the door below. After a little hesitation, he opened the
window and demanded who it was.

“I want Mr. Nickleby,” replied a voice.

“ What with him ? ”

“That’s not. Mr. Nickleby’s voice, surely?” was the
rejoinder.

It was not like it, but it was Ralph who spoke, and so he
said.

The voice made answer that the twin brothers wished
to know whether the man Brooker, whom he had seen that
night, was to be detained; and although it was now midnight
they had sent for an answer, in their anxiety to do right.

“Yes,” cried Ralph, “detain him till tomorrow; then let
them bring him here — him and my nephew — and come
themselves, and be sure that I will be ready to receive
them.”

“ At what hour? ”

“At any hour,” replied Ralph fiercely. “In the after¬
noon, tell them. At any hour, at any minute. All times will
be alike to me.”

He listened to the man’s retreating footsteps, until the
sound had passed, and then gazing up into the sky, saw, or
thought he saw, the same black cloud that had seemed to fol-

572 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

low him home and which now appeared to hover directly above

the house.

“ I know its meaning now,” he muttered, “ and the rest¬
less nights, the dreams, all pointed to this. Oh! if men by
selling their souls could ride rampant, for how short a term
would I barter mine tonight! ”

The sound of a deep bell came along the wind.

“ Lie on,” cried the usurer, “ with your iron tongue! Ring
merrily! Call men to prayers who are godly because not
found out, and ring chimes for the coming of every year
that brings this cursed world nearer to its end. No bell or
book for me! ”

With a wild look around, in which frenzy, hatred, and
despair were horribly mingled, he shook his clenched hand
at the sky above him, which was still dark and threatening,
and closed the window.

The rain and hail pattered against the glass; the chimneys
quaked and rocked; the crazy casement rattled with the
wind as though an impatient hand inside were striving to
burst it open. But no hand was there, and it opened no
more.

* * *

“ How’s this? ” cried one. “ The gentlemen say they can t
make anybody hear and have been trying these two hours.

“ And yet he came home last night,” said another. “ For
he spoke to somebody out of that window upstairs.

They were a little knot of men and, the window being
mentioned, went out in the road to look at it. The house
was close shut and led to a great many suggestions which
ended in two or three of the boldest getting round to the
back and entering by a window. The others remained out¬
side in impatient expectation.

They looked into all the rooms below, opening the shutters

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

573

as they went to admit the fading light and, still finding
nobody and everything quiet and in its place, doubted whether
they should go further. One man, however, remarking that
they had not yet been into the garret and that it was there
he had been last seen, they agreed to look there, too, and
went up softly; for the mystery and silence made them
timid.

After they had stood for an instant on the landing, he
who had proposed carrying the search so far, turned the
handle of the door, and, pushing it open, looked through the
chink, and fell back directly.

“ It’s very odd,” he whispered; “ he’s hiding behind the
door! Look! ”

They pressed forward to see; but one among them, thrust¬
ing the others aside with a loud exclamation, drew a knife
from his pocket and dashing into the room cut down the
body of Ralph Nickleby. He had tom a rope from one of
the old trunks and hanged himself on an iron hook below
the trap door in the ceiling — in the very place to which
the eyes of his son, a lonely desolate little creature, had so
often been directed in childish terror fourteen years before.

CHAPTER XLIII

SOME weeks had passed, and the first shock of these events
had subsided. Madeline had been removed; Frank had
been absent; Nicholas and Kate had begun to try in good
earnest to stifle their own regrets and to live for each other
and for their mother — who, poor lady^ could not be reconciled
to this dull and altered state of affairs — when there came one
evening, per favour of Mr. Linkinwater, an invitation from
the brothers to dinner on the next day but one, including not

574

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

only Mrs. Nickleby, Kate, and Nicholas, but little Miss La
Creevy, who was most particularly mentioned.

The great day arriving, Mrs. Nickleby, very much excited,
put herself under Kate’s hands an hour or so after breakfast
and, being made ready by easy stages, completed her dress¬
ing in sufficient time to allow her daughter to do her own,
which was very simple and not very long, though so satisfac¬
tory that she had never appeared more charming or looked
more lovely. Miss La Creevy, too, arrived with two hand-
boxes (whereof the bottoms fell out as they were handed
from the coach) and something in a newspaper, which a
gentleman had sat upon coming down and which was obliged
to be ironed again before it was fit for service. At last, every¬
body was dressed, including Nicholas, who had come home
early to take them, and they went away in a coach sent by
the brothers for the purpose.

The old butler received them with respect and many smiles,
and ushered them into the drawing-room, where they were
received by the brothers with so much cordiality and kind¬
ness that Mrs. Nickleby was quite in a flutter. Kate was
still more affected by the reception, knowing that the brothers
were acquainted with all that had passed between her and
Frank. She was trembling on the arm of Nicholas, when
Mr. Charles placed her hand within his own arm and led
her to another part of the room, saying:

“ Have you seen Madeline, my dear, since she left your
house ? ”

“No sir! Not once!”

“And not heard from her, eh? Not heard from her?”

“ I have only had one letter,” rejoined Kate, gently. “ I
thought she would not. have forgotten me quite so soon.”

“ Ah ! ” said the old gentleman, patting her on the head
and speaking as affectionately as if she had been his favourite
child. “ Poor dear ! What do you think of this, Brother
Ned? Madeline has only written to her once, only once,

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 575

Ned, and she didn’t think she would have forgotten her quite
so soon.”

“ Oh! sad, sad, very sad! ” said Ned.

The brothers interchanged a glance and, looking at Kate
for a little time without speaking, shook hands and nodded
as if they were congratulating each other on something very
delightful.

“ Weh, well,” said Brother Charles, “ go into that room,
my dear — that door yonder — and see if there’s not a letter
for you from her. I think there’s one upon the table. You
needn’t hurry back, my love, if there is, for we don’t dine
just yet, and there’s plenty of time. Plenty of time.”

Kate went in as she was directed. Brother Charles, having
followed her graceful figure with his eyes, turned to Mrs.
Nickleby and said:

We took the liberty of naming one hour before the
real dinner-time because we had a little business to speak
about. Ned, my dear fellow, will mention what we agreed
upon. Mr. Nickleby, please have the goodness to follow
me.”

Without any further explanation, Mrs. Nickleby, Miss
La Creevy, and Brother Ned, were left alone together, and
Nicholas followed Brother Charles into his private room,
where to his great astonishment he encountered Frank, whom
he supposed to be abroad.

“ Young men,” said Mr. Cheeryble, “ shake hands! ”

11 1 need no bidding to do that,” said Nicholas, extending
his.

“ Nor I,” rejoined Frank, as he clasped it heartily.

The old gentleman thought that two finer young fellows
could scarcely stand side by side than those to whom he
looked with so much pleasure. He thought of that future
time when the firm would be Cheeryble and Nickleby.
Allowing his eyes to rest upon them for a short time in silence,
he said, while he seated himself at his desk:

576

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“I wish to see you friends — close and firm friends — and
if I thought you otherwise, I should hesitate in what I am
about to say. Frank, look here. Mr. Nickleby, will you
come on the other side ? ”

The young men stepped up on either hand of Brother
Charles, who produced a paper from his desk and, unfolding
it, said:

“ This is a copy of the will of Madeline’s maternal grand¬
father, bequeathing her the sum of twelve thousand pounds,
payable either upon her coming of age or marrying. Made¬
line has obtained her right, and is, or will be, mistress of this
fortune. You understand me?”

Frank replied in the affirmative. Nicholas, who could
not trust himself to speak lest his voice should be heard to
falter, bowed his head.

“Now, Frank,” said the old gentleman, “you were the
means of recovering this deed. The fortune is but a small
one; but we love Madeline, and such as it is we would rather
see you allied to her with that than to any other girl we
know who has three times the money. Will you become
a suitor to her for her hand? ”

“No, sir. I worked to get that deed believing she was
already promised to one who had a thousand times the claims
upon her gratitude, and, if I mistake not, upon her heart,
than I or any other man can ever urge. In this it seems I
judged hastily.”

“ As you always do,” cried Brother Charles, utterly for¬
getting his assumed dignity, “ as you always do. How dare
you think, Frank, that we would have you marry for money,
when youth, beauty, and every amiable virtue and excellence
were to be had for love? How dared you, Frank, go and
make love to Mr. Nickleby’s sister without telling us first
what you meant to do and letting us speak for you ? ”

“ I hardly dared to hope - ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

577

“ You hardly dared to hope! Then, so much the greater
reason for having our assistance! Mr. Nickleby, Frank,
although he judged hastily, judged for once correctly.
Madeline’s heart is occupied. Give me your hand; it is
occupied by you, and worthily and naturally. This fortune
is destined to be yours, but you have a greater fortune in
her than you would have in money were it forty times as
much. She chooses you, Mr. Nickleby. She chooses as we,
her dearest friends, wmuld have her choose. Frank chooses
as we would have him choose. He should have your sister’s
hand if she had refused it twenty times. He should and he
shall! You acted nobly, not knowing our sentiments; but
now you know them, you must do as you are bid. Why!
You are the children of a worthy gentleman! The time was
when my dear brother Ned and I were two poor simple-
hearted boys, wandering almost barefoot to seek our fortunes.
Are we changed in anything but years and worldly circum¬
stances since that time? No, God forbid! Oh, Ned, Ned,
what a happy day this is for you and me! If our poor
mother had only lived to see us now, how proud it would
have made her dear heart at last! ”

Brother Ned, who had entered with Mrs. Nickleby, darted
forward and fairly hugged Brother Charles in his arms.

“ Bring in my little Kate,” said Brother Charles, after a
short silence. “ Bring her in, Ned. Let me see Kate; let
me kiss her. I have a right to do so now; I was very near
it when she first came. Ah, did you find the letter, my bird?
Did you find Madeline herself waiting for you and expecting
you? Did you find that she had not quite forgotten her
friend and nurse and sweet companion? Why, this is almost
the best of all ! ”

“ Come, come,” said Ned. “ Frank will be jealous, and we
shall have some cutting of throats before dinner.”

“ Then let him take her away, Ned; let him take her away.

578

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Madeline’s in the next room. Let all the lovers get out of
the way and talk among themselves, if they’ve anything to
say. Turn ’em out, Ned, every one! ”

Brother Charles began the clearance by leading the blush¬
ing girl to the door and dismissing her with a kiss. Frank
was not very slow to follow, and Nicholas had disappeared
first of all. So there only remained Mrs. Nickleby and Miss
La Creevy, who were both sobbing heartily, the two brothers,
and Tim Linkinwater, who came in to shake hands with every¬
body, his round face all radiant and beaming with smiles.

“ Well, Tim Linkinwater,” said Brother Charles, who was
always spokesman, “now the young folks are happy, sir.”

“ You didn’t keep ’em in suspense as long as you said you
would, though,” returned Tim. “ Why, Mr. Nickleby and
Mr. Frank were to have been in your room for I don’t know
how long, and I don’t know what you weren’t to have told
them before you came out with the truth.”

“ Now did you ever know such a villain as this, Ned ? Did
you ever know such a villain as Tim Linkinwater? He
accusing me of being impatient and he the very man wearying
us morning, noon, and night, and torturing us for leave to
go and tell ’em what was in store, before our plans were half
complete, or we had arranged a single thing. . A treacherous
dog! ”

“So he is, Brother Charles. Tim is a treacherous dog.
Tim is not to be trusted. Tim is a wild young fellow. He
wants gravity and steadiness; he must sow his wild oats,
and then perhaps he’ll become in time a respectable member
of society.”

This being one of the standing jokes between the old fellows
and Tim, they all three laughed very heartily and might have
laughed much longer if the brothers, seeing that Mrs. Nickleby
was labouring to express her feelings and was really over¬
whelmed by the happiness of the time, had not taken her

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

579

between them, and led her from the room under pretence of
having to consult her on some most important arrangements.

Now Tim and Miss La Creevy had met very often, and
had always been chatty and pleasant together — had always
been great friends ; consequently, it was the most natural thing
in the world that Tim, finding that she still sobbed, should
endeavour to console her. As Miss La Creevy sat on an
old-fashioned window seat, where there was ample room
for two, it was also natural that Tim should sit down beside
her; and as to Tim’s being unusually spruce and particular
in his attire that day, why it was a high festival and a great
occasion, and that was the most natural thing of all.

Tim sat down beside Miss La Creevy, and said in a sooth¬
ing way:

“ Don’t cry! ”

“ I must.”

“ No, don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.”

“ I am so happy,” sobbed the little woman.

“ Then laugh,” said Tim. “ Do laugh.”

What in the world Tim was doing with his arm, it is im¬
possible to conjecture; but he knocked his elbow against
that part of the window which was quite on the other side
of Miss La Creevy; and it is clear that it could have no
business there.

“ Do laugh,” said Tim, “ or I’ll cry.”

“ Why should you cry? ” asked Miss La Creevy, smiling.

“ Because I’m happy too. We are both happy, and I
should like to do as you do.”

Surely, there never was a man who fidgeted as Tim must
have done then; for he knocked the window again — almost
in the same place — and Miss La Creevy said she was sure
he’d break it.

“ I knew that you would be pleased with this scene,” said
Tim.

580 NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“It was very thoughtful and kind to remember me.
Nothing could have delighted me half so much.”

“ It’s a pleasant thing to people like us, who have passed
all our lives in the world alone, to see young folks that we
are fond of brought together with so many years of happiness
before them,” said Tim.

“ Ah, that it is! ” cried the little woman with all her heart.

“ Although,” pursued Tim, “although it makes one feel
quite solitary and cast away. Now don’t it? ”

Miss La Creevy said she didn’t know.

“It’s almost enough to make us get married after all,
isn’t it? ” said Tim.

“ Oh, nonsense! ” replied Miss La Creevy, laughing. “ We
are too old.”

“ Not a bit. We are too old to be single. Why shouldn’t
we both be married instead of sitting through the long winter
evenings by our solitary firesides? Why shouldn’t we make
one fireside of it, and marry each other? ”

“ Oh, Mr. Linkinwater, you’re joking! ”

“ No, no, I’m not. I’m not indeed,” said Tim. “ I will,
if you will. Do, my dear! ”

“ It would make people laugh so.”

“ Let ’em laugh. We have good tempers, I know, and we’ll
laugh too. Why, what hearty laughs we have had since
we’ve known each other! ”

“ So we have,” cried Miss La Creevy — giving way a little,
as Tim thought.

“ It has been the happiest time in all my life; at least away
from the counting-house and Cheeryble Brothers,” said Tim.
“Do, my dear! Now say you will,”

“ No, no, we mustn’t think of it,” returned Miss La Creevy,
“ What would the brothers say? ”

“Why God bless your soul!. ” cried Tim, innocently, “ you
don’t suppose I should think of such a thing without their
knowing it! Why, they left us here on purpose.”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY 581

“ I can never look them in the face again! ” exclaimed Miss
La Creevy, faintly.

“Come!” said Tim. “Let’s be a comfortable couple.
We shall live in the old house here, where I have been for
four-and-forty years. We shall go to the old church, where
I’ve been every Sunday morning all through that time.
Let’s be a comfortable couple and take care of each other!
Now do, my dear! ”

Five minutes after this honest and straightforward speech,
little Miss La Creevy and Tim were talking as pleasantly
as if they had been married for a score of years and had
never once quarrelled in all that time; and five minutes after
that, when Miss La Creevy had bustled out to see if her
eyes were red and to put her hair to rights, Tim moved with
a stately step towards the drawing-room, exclaiming as he
went:

“ There ain’t such another woman in all London! I know
there ain’t! ”

By this time the apoplectic butler was nearly in fits, in
consequence of the unheard of postponement of dinner.
Nicholas, who had been engaged in a manner in which every
reader may imagine for himself or herself, was hurrying
downstairs in obedience to his angry summons, when he en¬
countered a new surprise.

On his way down, he overtook a stranger genteelly dressed
in black, who was also moving towards the dining room. As
he was rather lame and walked slowly, Nicholas lingered
behind, and was following him step by step, wondering who
he was, when he suddenly turned round and caught him by
both hands.

“ Newman Noggs! ” cried Nicholas joyfully.

“Ah, Newman, your own Newman, your own old faith¬
ful Newman! My dear boy, my dear Nick, I give you joy
--health, happiness, every blessing! I can’t bear it it’s
too njuch, my dear boy — it makes a child of me ! ”

582

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Where have you been ? What have you been doing ? ”
said Nicholas. “ How often have I enquired for you and
been told that I should hear before long.”

“I know, I know! ” returned Newman. “They wanted
all the happiness to come together. IVe been helping them.
I — I — look at me, Nick. Look at me! ”

“ You wouldn’t let me do that for you,” said Nicholas, in
a tone of gentle reproach, looking at the splendid clothes
Newman wore.

“ I didn’t mind what I was then. I shouldn’t have had
the heart to put on gentleman’s clothes. They would have
reminded me of old times and made me miserable. I am
another man now, Nick. My dear boy, I can’t speak. Don’t
say anything to me. Don’t think the worse of me for these
tears. You don’t know what I feel today; you can’t and
never will ! ”

They walked in to dinner, arm in arm, and sat down side
by side.

CHAPTER XLIV

CHOLAS was one of those whose joy is not complete

rs unless it is shared by the friends of less fortunate days.
Surrounded by every fascination of love and hope, his warm
heart yearned towards plain John Browdie. He remembered
their first meeting with a smile, and their second with a tear,
saw poor Smike once again with the bundle on his shoulder,
trudging patiently by his side, and heard the honest York-
shireman’s rough words of encouragement as he left him on
his road to London.

Madeline and he sat down very many times to write a
letter which should acquaint John Browdie with his good
fortune and assure him of his friendship and gratitude. It
so happened, however, that the letter could never be written.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

583

Although they applied themselves to it with the best inten¬
tions in the world, it chanced that they always fell to talking
about something else; and when Nicholas tried it by him¬
self, he found it impossible to write one-half of what he wished
to say. At last he resolved to make a hasty trip into York¬
shire and present himself before Mr. and Mrs. Browdie
without a word of notice.

Thus it was that between seven and eight o’clock one
evening he and Kate found themselves in the Saracen’s
booking office, getting a place for Nicholas on the next day’s
stagecoach. They had to procure some little necessaries for
his journey; and as it was a fine night, they agreed to walk,
and ride home.

The Saracen’s Head Inn called up so many recollections,
and Kate had so many anecdotes of Madeline, and Nicholas
had so many anecdotes of Frank, and each was so interested
in what the other said, and both were so happy and con¬
fiding, and had so much to talk about that it was not until
they had plunged for a full half-hour into a labyrinth of streets
without emerging into any large thoroughfare that Nicholas
began to think it just possible they might have lost their
way.

He was soon sure of this. Looking about and walking first
to one end of the street and then to the other, he found no
landmark that he could recognise, and had to turn back again
in search of some place where he could find out in which direc¬
tion to go.

It was a by-street, and there was nobody about or in the
few wretched shops they passed. Going towards a faint
gleam of light, which streamed across the pavement from a
cellar, Nicholas was about to descend two or three steps
and make his enquiry when he was stopped by a loud noise
of scolding in a woman’s voice.

“ Oh come away! ” said Kate. “They are quarrelling.
You’ll be hurt.”

584

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

“ Wait one instant, Kate. Let us hear if there’s anything
the matter. Hush! ”

“ You nasty, idle, vicious, good-for-nothing brute,” cried
the woman, stamping on the ground, “ why don’t you turn
the mangle ? ”

“ So I am, my life and soul! ” replied a man’s voice. “ I
am always turning. I am perpetually turning, like a demd
old horse in a demnition mill. My life is one demd horrid
grind! ”

“ Then why don’t you go and list for a soldier? You’re
welcome to.”

“ For a soldier! For a soldier! Would his joy and glad¬
ness see him in a coarse red coat with a little tail ? Would she
hear of his being slapped and beat by drummers demnibly?
Would she have him fire off real guns, and have his hair cut,
and his whiskers shaved, and his trousers pipeclayed? ”

“ Dear Nicholas,” whispered Kate, “ you don’t know who
that is. It’s Mr. Mantalini, I am confident.”

“ Do make sure ! Look at him while I ask the way. Come
down a step or two. Come.”

Drawing her after him, Nicholas crept down the steps and
looked into a small boarded cellar. There amidst clothes
baskets and clothes, stripped to his shirt sleeves, but wear¬
ing still an old patched pair of pantaloons of superlative
make, a once brilliant waistcoat, and moustache and whiskers
as of yore, but lacking their lustrous dye — there, endeavour¬
ing to mollify the wrath of a buxom female — not the lawful
Madame Mantalini, but the proprietress of the concern —
and grinding meanwhile as if for very life at the mangle, whose
creaking noise, mingled with her shrill tones, appeared almost
to deafen him — there was the graceful, elegant, fascinating,
and once dashing Mantalini.

“ Oh, you false traitor! ” cried the lady, threatening per¬
sonal violence on Mr. Mantalini’s face.

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

585

“ False. Oh dem! Now my soul, my gentle, captivating,
bewitching, and most demnebly enslaving chick-a-biddy, be
calm,” said Mr. Mantalini, humbly.

“ I won’t ! ” screamed the woman, “ I’ll tear your eyes out ! ”
“ Oh ! What a demd savage lamb ! ” cried Mr. Manta¬
lini.

“ You’re never to be trusted,” screamed the woman; “ you
were out all day yesterday, and galavanting somewhere, I
know. You know you were! Isn’t it enough that I paid
two pound fourteen for you, and took you out of prison and
let you live like a gentleman, but must you go on like this,
breaking my heart besides ? ”

“ I will never break its heart. I will be a good boy, and
never do so any more; I will never be naughty again; I
beg its little pardon,” said Mr. Mantalini, dropping the
handle of the mangle and folding his palms together. “ It
is all up with its handsome friend! He has gone to the
demnition bow wows. It will have pity ? It will not scratch
and claw, but pet and comfort? Oh, demmit.”

Very little affected by this tender appeal, the lady was
on the point of returning some angry reply, when Nicholas,
raising his voice, asked his way to the street where he was
going.

Mr. Mantalini turned round, caught sight of Kate, and
without another word, leapt at one bound into a bed which
stood behind the door, and drew the counterpane over his
face, kicking meanwhile convulsively.

“ Demmit,” he cried in a suffocating voice, “ it’s little
Nickleby! Shut the door, put out the candle, turn me up
in the bedstead! Oh, dem, dem, dem! ”

The woman looked first at Nicholas and then at Mr.
Mantalini, as if uncertain on whom to visit this extraordinary
behaviour; but Mr. Mantalini, happening by ill luck to thrust
his nose from under the bedclothes in his anxiety to ascer-

586

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

tain whether the visitors were gone, she suddenly, and with
a dexterity which could only have been acquired by long
practice, flung a pretty heavy clothes basket at him, with so
good an aim that he kicked more violently than before, though
without making any effort to disengage his head, which was
quite extinguished. Thinking this a favourable opportunity
for departing before any of her wrath discharged itself
upon him, Nicholas hurried Kate off, and left the unfor¬
tunate subject of this unexpected recognition to explain his
conduct as he best could.

The next morning Nicholas began his journey. It was now
cold winter weather — forcibly recalling to his mind under
what circumstances he had first travelled that road.

He slept at the inn at Greta Bridge on the night of his
arrival and, rising at a very early hour the next morning,
walked to the market town and inquired for John Browdie’s
house. John lived in the outskirts, now he was a family
man; and as everybody knew him, Nicholas had no difficulty
in finding a boy who undertook to guide him to his resi¬
dence.

Dismissing his guide at the gate and in his impatience not
even stopping to admire the thriving look of cottage or
garden either, Nicholas made his way to the kitchen door
and knocked lustily with his stick.

“Halloa! ” cried a voice inside. “What be the matther
noo? Be the toon afire? Ding, but thou mak’st noise
eneaf! ”

With these words, John Browdie opened the door himself
and, opening his eyes, too, to their utmost width, cried, as he
clapped his hands together, and burst into a hearty roar:

“ Ecod, Tilly, here be Misther Nickleby. Give us thee
hond, mun. Coom awa’, coom awa\ In wi’ ’un, doon beside
the fire; I might ha’ know’d that nobody but thou would
ha’ coom wi’ slke a knock as yon. Ding! But I’m reeght

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

587

glod to see thee.” John dragged Nicholas into the kitchen,
forced him down upon a huge settle beside a blazing fire,
and stood with a broad grin of welcome overspreading his
great red face, like a jolly giant. “ But I say, waa’t be a’
this aboot schoolmeasther? ” he added, after more welcoming
had been made happily and affectionately.

“You know it then?” said Nicholas.

“ They were talking aboot it, doon toon, last neeght, but
neane on ’em seemed quite to un’erstan’ it loike.”

“ Squeers has been sentenced to be transported for seven
years, for being in the unlawful possession of a stolen will;
and after that, he has to suffer the consequences of being in a
conspiracy. Peg Sliderskew received the same sentence.”

“ Whew! A conspiracy! Explain it arter breakfast, not
noo, for thou bee’st hoongry, and so am I; and Tilly she
mun be at the bottom o’ a’ explanations, for she says thot’s
the mutual confidence. Ha, ha, ha! Ecod! It’s a room
start, is the mutual confidence! Ding! But I’m reeght
glod to see thee.”

The entrance of Mrs. Browdie with a smart cap on and
very many apologies for their having been detected in the
act of breakfasting in the kitchen stopped John in any more
discussion, and hastened the breakfast, which was composed
of mounds of toast, fresh eggs, boiled ham, Yorkshire pie,
and other cold substantials. At last it came to a close, and a
fire having been lighted in the best parlour, they adjourned
thither to hear what Nicholas had to tell.

Nicholas told them all, and never was there a story which
awakened so many emotions in the breasts of two eager
listeners. At one time honest John groaned in sympathy,
and at another roared with joy. At one time he vowed to
go up to London to get a sight of the Brothers Cheeryble;
at another swore that Tim Linkinwater should receive such
a ham by coach as mortal knife had never carved. When

588

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Nicholas began to describe Madeline, he sat with his mouth
wide open, nudging Mrs. Browdie from time to time and
exclaiming under his breath that she must be “ raa’ther a
tidy sart,” and when he heard at last that his young friend
had come down purposely to communicate his good fortune
and to convey to him all those assurances of friendship which
he could not state with sufficient warmth in writing — that
the only object of his journey was to share his happiness
with them and to tell them that when he was married, they
must come up to see him, and that Madeline insisted on it
as well as he — John could hold out no longer, but after
looking indignantly at his wife and demanding to know
what she was whimpering for, drew his coat sleeve over his
eyes and cried outright.

“ Tell ’ee waa’t, though,” said John, seriously, when a great
deal had been said on both sides, “ to return to school-
measther. If this news aboot ’un has reached school today,
the old ’ooman wean’t have a whole boan in her boddy, nor
Fanny neither.”

“ Oh John! ” cried Mrs. Browdie.

“Ah! and ‘ Oh John’ agean. I dinnot know what they
lads mightn’t do. When it first got aboot that school-
measther was in trouble, some feythers and moothers sent
and took their young chaps awa’. If them as is left should
know waa’ts coom tiv um, there’ll be sike a revolution and
rebel ! — Ding ! But I think they’ll a’ gang daft, and spill
bluid like wather! ”

In fact, John Browdie’s apprehensions were so strong that
he determined to ride over to the school without delay and
invited Nicholas to accompany him, which, however, he
declined, pleading that his presence might perhaps aggra¬
vate the bitterness of their adversary.

“ Thot’s true! I should ne’er ha’ thought o’ thot.”

“ I must return tomorrow, but I mean to dine with you
today; and if Mrs. Browdie can give me a bed - ”

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

589

“Bed! ” cried John, “I wish thou could’st sleep in four
beds at once. Ecod, thou should’st have ’em a’. Bide till
I coom back ; on’y bide till I coom back, and ecod, we’ll make
a day of it ! ”

Giving his wife a hearty kiss and Nicholas a hearty shake
of the hand, John mounted his horse and rode off, leaving
Mrs. Browdie to apply herself to hospitable preparations and
his young friend to stroll about the neighbourhood and revisit
spots which were rendered familiar to him by many a miser¬
able association.

John cantered away and, arriving at Dotheboys Hall, tied
his horse to a gate. He made his way to the schoolroom door,
which he found locked on the inside. A tremendous noise
and riot arose from within, and looking through a crack in
the wall, he saw the meaning of this. The news of Mr.
Squeers’s downfall had reached Dotheboys; that was quite
clear. It had probably just become known to the young
gentlemen, for rebellion had just broken out.

It was one of the brimstone-and-treacle mornings. Mrs.
Squeers had entered the school with the large bowl and
spoon, followed by Miss Squeers and the amiable Wackford,
who, during his father’s absence, had taken upon himself such
branches of the executive as kicking the pupils with his nailed
boots, pulling the hair of some of the smaller boys, pinch¬
ing the others in aggravating places, and rendering himself
in similar ways a great comfort and happiness to his mother.
This morning their entrance was the signal of revolt. While
one detachment rushed to the door and locked it and another
mounted the desks and benches, the strongest bo}7- (and
consequently the newest) seized the cane and, confronting
Mrs. Squeers with a stern countenance, snatched off her
cap and beaver bonnet and put them on his own head.
Then he armed himself with the wooden spoon and told her
they would kill her if she did not get down on her knees and
take a dose. Before that estimable lady could recover her-

590

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

self, or offer the slightest retaliation, she was forced into a
kneeling posture by a crowd of shouting tormentors and com¬
pelled to swallow a spoonful of the odious mixture, rendered
more than usually savory by the immersion in the bowd of
Mr. Wackford’s head, whose ducking was entrusted to
another rebel. The success of this first achievement prompted
the malicious crowd to further acts of outrage. The leader
was insisting upon Mrs. Squeers repeating her dose, Mr.
Wackford Squeers was undergoing another dip in the treacle,
and a violent assault had been commenced on Miss Squeers,
when John Browdie, bursting open the door with a vigorous
kick, rushed to the rescue. The shouts, screams, groans,
hoots, and clapping of hands suddenly ceased, and a dead
silence ensued.

“Ye be noice chaps,” said John, looking sternly round.
“ Waat’s to do here, thou young dogs? ”

“ Squeers is in prison, and we are going to run away ! ”
cried a score of shrill voices. “ We won’t stop, we won’t
stop! ”

“ Weel then, dinnot stop. Who waants thee to stop?
Roon awa’ loike men, but dinnot hurt the women.”

“ Hurrah! ” cried the shrill voices, more shrilly still.

“Hurrah?” repeated John. “Weel, hurrah, loike men,
too. Noo then, look out. Hip — hip — hip — hurrah! ”

“ Hurrah! ” cried the voices.

“Hurrah! Agean,” said John. “ Looder still.”

The boys obeyed.

“ Anoother! ” said John. “ Dinnot be afeared on it. Let’s
have a good ’un! ”

“ Hurrah ! ”

“ Noo then,” said John, “ let’s have yan more to end wi’,
and then coot off as quick as you loike. ' Tak’ a good breath
noo — Squeers be in jail — the school’s brokken oop — it’s
a’ ower — past and gane — think o’ thot, and let it be a hearty

591

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

Such a cheer arose as the walls of Dotheboys Hall had never
echoed before, and were destined never to respond to again.
When the sound had died away, the school was empty, and of
the busy noisy crowd which had peopled it but five minutes
before not one remained.

1 Very well, Mr. Browdie! ” said Miss Squeers, hot and
flushed from the recent encounter, but vixenish to the last;
“ you’ve been and excited our boys to run away. Now see
if we don’t pay you out for that! If my pa is unfortunate
and trod down by henemies, we’re not going to be basely
crowed and conquered over by you and ’Tilda! ”

“ Noa! thou bean’t. Think better o’ us, Fanny. I tell
ee both that I’m glad the auld man has been caught out at
last — • dom’d glad — but ye’ll soofer eneaf wi’ out any
crowin’ fra’ me, and I be not the mun to crow, nor be Tilly
the lass, so I tell ’ee flat. More than that, I tell ’ee noo,
that if thou need’st friends to help thee awa’ from this place
dinnot turn up thy nose, Fanny, thou may’st — thou’lt
foind Tilly and I wi’a thout o’ old times aboot us, ready to
lend thee a hand. And when I say thot, dinnot think I be
ashamed of wat I’ve done, for I say agean, ‘ Hurrah! And
dom the schoolmeasther.’ There! ”

His parting words concluded, John Browdie strode heavily
out, remounted his nag, put him once more into a smart
canter, and singing lustily some fragment of an old song to
which the horse’s hoofs rang a merry accompaniment, sped
back to his pretty wife and to Nicholas. For some weeks
afterwards, the neighbouring country was overrun with boys,
who, the report went, had been secretly furnished by Mr.
and Mrs. Browdie not only with a hearty meal of bread and
meat but with shillings and sixpences to help them on their
way.

In course of time Dotheboys Hall began to be forgotten
by the neighbours or to be only spoken of as among things
that had been.

I

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES

DICKENS’S BIOGRAPHY

1. Give a brief account of the life of this author, describing
his childhood, youth, and later life. 2. Mention some of his
works, telling some of the general characteristics of his writings.
3. Compare his works with those of the present. 4. What was
a great purpose of the author in writing this book? 5. What
result was accomplished? 6. By what means did the author
bring about the result he desired?

CHAPTER I

1. Write a theme of two hundred words containing these
words, used in any order desired. Give this theme an appro¬
priate title.

Ralph

nephew

Nicholas

boys

Mrs. Nickle¬

clerk

letter

dislike

Kate

by

Nickleby

Mr Squeers

nineteen

position

splendid

school

Newman

widow

fortune

affectionate

Miss La

Noggs

brother

beautiful

hope

Creevy

assistance

brave

poor

advertise¬

heartless

promised

death

ment

2. When this story began how old was Kate? 3. What was
the occupation of Ralph Nickleby? 4. Is there such an occu¬
pation at the present time? 5. When is such an occupation
to be condemned? 6. Is it ever right to make some one’s
necessity your opportunity? Explain this.

CHAPTERS II AND III

1. Describe Mr. Squeers and his first pupil at the Saracen
Hotel. 2. Describe the interview between Mr. Squeers and
Mr. Snawley. 3. Describe the interview between Mr. Squeers,
Nicholas, and his uncle. 4. Describe the departure of Nicholas

593

594

NICHOLAS NICKLEB Y

in the stage. 5. Who were the four people to see him go?
6. What was given to Nicholas as he was about to leave? Why
was Nicholas somewhat disappointed at this time? (Explain
in four sentences.) 7. Describe the journey to Yorkshire.

CHAPTER IV

1. Write a summary of Chapter IV using these words:

Greta Bridge

Yorkshire

weather

baggage

boys

gate

letters

bed

Smike

towel

mattress

clothes

drudge

letter

Mrs. Squeers

meat

Newman Noggs

supper

pie

father

2. Represent this chapter in a dramatic scene.

CHAPTER V

Feature this chapter as a motion picture with nine parts.
I. Nicholas and Squeers in the bedroom of Nicholas (for one
night). II. Mrs. Squeers hunting for the “ school spoon.”
III. Nicholas and Squeers entering Dotheboys Hall. IV. Mrs.
Squeers administering brimstone and treacle. V. Breakfast
for the school. VI. Mr. Squeers gives a lesson in English
spelling and philosophy. VII. Nicholas hears some lessons.
VIII. Mr. Squeers holds an assembly of a painful nature in
the schoolroom. IX. Nicholas and Smike.

GENERAL QUESTIONS, CHAPTERS I-V

1. Comment on the manner in which Dickens introduces his
hero in this story. 2. Is it according to the dramatic custom
of the present day? 3. Give some examples of the way in
which heroes are introduced in some modern stories. 4. Take
into consideration time, place, circumstances. 5. Was it the
duty of Ralph Nickleby to care for his brother’s family? 6. To
what extent, at the present time, are relatives obliged by
law to care for each other? 7. Would it be a good plan to
make such laws stricter and make relatives absolutely responsible
for the care of all dependent relations? Explain. 8. Would
it be a good idea to make all parents responsible for the care,

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 595

morally and physically, of their children, and punish the parents
as well as the children for any misdemeanor? Explain in a
few sentences. 9. In what way did Ralph Nickleby observe
that people who have no money always want to manage the
money of others? 10. Was he obliged to help his brother’s
family according to the English law? 11. What is this law at
present?

CHAPTER VI

Make of this chapter an act of four scenes. If you wish to
shorten the sketch, what can well be left out?

Scene I. Time: 1850, winter evening. Place: The school¬
master’s family apartment, Dotheboys Hall, Yorkshire. Per¬
sons: Mr. Squeers, Mrs. Squeers, Miss Fanny Squeers, Master
Wackford Squeers.

Scene II. Time: Next day. Place: The schoolroom. Per¬
sons: Nicholas, Fanny, the Boys.

Scene III. Time: Later in the same day. Place: Home of
Matilda Price. Persons: Fanny and Matilda.

Scene IV. Time: A day or two later. Place: Living room
of the Squeers home. Persons: Fanny Squeers, Matilda, Nicho¬
las, John Browdie. Order of events : The arrival of Nicholas,
the arrival of John, the game of cards, a disappointment, a
misunderstanding, reflections of Nicholas.

CHAPTER VII

1. In 1850 what kinds of positions were open to girls?
2. What position did Ralph obtain for his niece? 3. What
work was she required to do? 4. How many hours did she
work? 5. What was her salary? 6. What were Kate’s im¬
pressions of Mr. Mantalini? Why? 7. How did Newman
Noggs assist Kate and her mother just after Kate obtained her
position at the Mantalini house?

CHAPTER VIII

1. Describe the return of Mr. Squeers from the tavern and
his retirement for the night. 2. What was the conversation

596

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

between Fanny and Phoebe? 3. Describe the interview with
Nicholas the day after the party and the future intentions of
Fanny Squeers regarding him. 4. In what way was Smike
affected by this? 5. Relate the conversation between Nicholas
and Smike at the end of this chapter.

CHAPTER IX

1. Relate the conversation Kate overheard between Madame
Mantalini and her husband. 2. How did Kate prosper at first
in her new position? 3. How was she affected by the first letter
of Nicholas?

CHAPTER X

Prepare this chapter for dramatic reading in seven scenes. I.
The flight of Smike discovered. II. The preparations for the re¬
covery of Smike. III. The return of Mrs. Squeers with Smike.
IV. The attempted punishment of Smike by Squeers. V. The
schoolmaster beaten. VI. The departure of Nicholas Nickleby
and his meeting with Mr. Browdie. VII. The meeting of
Nicholas with Smike and their departure together.

CHAPTER XI

1. Describe the visit of Nicholas and Smike to Newman
Noggs. 2. What were the contents of the letter of Fanny
Squeers to Ralph Nickleby? 3. What experience did Nicholas
have at the employment office that affected him in a different
way from any other experience he had ever had?

CHAPTER XII

I. Describe the visit of the old lord and his intended bride
to the Mantalini establishment and the result as far as' Kate
and Miss Knag were concerned. 2, Describe the dinner party
at the home of Ralph Nickleby,

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 597

CHAPTER XIII

1. Why did Nicholas go to see Miss La Creevy after he
returned from Yorkshire? 2. Relate the conversation at the
Nickleby home between Nicholas, Ralph, Mrs. Nickleby, and
Kate. 3. What were the final words between Smike and Nicho¬
las on the evening of this same day? 4. What characteristics
in the dispositions of Nicholas *do all these conversations show?
5. What was he forced to do?

CHAPTER XIV

1. Why was Nicholas going to Portsmouth? 2. Did he do
what he expected to do? Why? 3. Does Dickens show much
knowledge of dramatic art? 4. Explain fully by giving illustra¬
tions of acting and of making plays. 5. For what parts were
Nicholas and Smike booked in a certain play?

CHAPTER XV

1. What calamity happened at the Mantalini establishment
that affected the position of Kate? 2. Who was the cause of
this catastrophe? 3. Why was it so hard for Kate Nickleby
to obtain a good position? 4. What could she have done at
the present time? 5. "What was her next position? 6. Are
there such positions as this at the present time? 7. How many
hours did she work? 8. What kind of work?

CHAPTER XVI

1. Why did Lord Verisopht and Sir Mulberry Hawk call
upon Ralph Nickleby after Kate left home to take her new
position? 2. Describe the visit of Mr. Pluck and Mr. Pyke at
the home of Mrs. Nickleby. 3. Who had planned this visit?
4. Tell about the theatre party of the same evening, describing
the actions of seven important people in this party. 5. What
complaint did Lord Frederick Verisopht make? 6. What con¬
clusion regarding Sir Mulberry did he fipally reach?

598

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XVII

1. In what plan had Sir Mulberry succeeded regarding the
Witterly home? 2. What were the experiences of Kate at this
time? 3. Why did she call upon her uncle? 4. Why did Mrs.
Witterly denounce her? 5. Would a modern girl have been
able to overcome this disagreeable and rather dangerous situ¬
ation? How?

CHAPTER XVIII

1. Nicholas Nickleby was what kind of an actor? 2. Describe
the result of the benefit performance. 3. What did he do with
his first money? 4. Why did Newman Noggs call upon Miss
La Creevy after writing to Nicholas?

CHAPTER XIX

1. Describe the encounter of Nicholas with Sir Mulberry
Hawk. 2. Could he have acted any differently? 3. What was
the final result of this interview?

CHAPTER XX

1. Describe the removal of the Nickleby family to the home
of Miss La Creevy. 2. What was in the letter that Nicholas
sent to his uncle?

CHAPTER XXI

1. Why did Mr. Mantalini call upon Ralph Nickleby with
some papers belonging to his wife? 2. Why did Madame
Mantalini call upon Ralph Nickleby? 3. In what way was
her husband occupied when she called? 4. How did the call
terminate as far as she and her husband were concerned?
5. Describe the visit of Wackford Squeers to Ralph Nickleby
and the conversation that took place between them. 6. Why
did Squ§§rs think Newman both crazy and drunk?

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 599

CHAPTER XXII

1. Describe the meeting of Nicholas with Mr. Charles Cheery-
ble, Tim Linkinwater, and Mr. Ned Cheeryble. 2. Describe
the new home of the Nicklebys.

CHAPTER XXIII

1. For what purpose did Ralph Nickleby call upon Sir Mul¬
berry Hawk? 2. Was he successful in the object of his visit?
3. What opinion did Lord Verisopht express concerning the
plan of Ralph and Sir Mulberry?

CHAPTER XXIV

1. Describe the birthday dinner of Tim Linkinwater.

2. What did the Cheeryble brothers give him for a present?

3. The anniversary of whose death was observed always at
this time? 4. What impression must Nicholas have had about
these brothers? 5. What was their nationality? 6. Relate
some of their early history. 7. What was their business?
8. W'hat did Mrs. Nickleby say about the man next door?

CHAPTER XXV

1. Describe the second time Nicholas saw the young lady
who had so impressed him at the employment office. 2. Pre¬
pare for dramatic reading the scene with the mad gentleman
next door. Persons: Mrs. Nickleby, Mad Gentleman, Kate,
His Keeper. Place and time: One afternoon in the garden of
the Nicklebys.

CHAPTER XXVI

1. Describe the capture of Smike by the pair of Wackfords;
the ride in the cab ; the arrival at Snawley’s ; the imprisonment
of Smike; the arrival of John Browdie, his wife, and Fanny
Squeers in London. 2. How did Smike escape? 3. Where did
he go? 4. Describe his return to the cottage.

600

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XXVII

Prepare this chapter for dramatic reading. Place: Small
dining room at the Saracen Hotel. Time: Evening. Persons:
Mr. John Browdie, his wife, Nicholas Nickleby, Fanny Squeers,
Mr. Squeers, young Wackford Squeers.

CHAPTER XXVIII

1. Who was Mr. Frank Cheeryble? 2. Where does he first
make his appearance in the story? 3. What news does New¬
man give Ralph that disappointed him for a time in his plan
for vengeance on Nicholas? 4. What was the conversation
between Ralph Nickleby and a beggar named Brooker?

5. Describe the complete financial fall of Mr. Mantalini.

6. Who had a great share in bringing this about (man and
woman) ?

CHAPTER XXIX

1. Give a description, oral or written, of Mr. and Mrs.
Browdie’s last night in London. 2. Wlio was the most impor¬
tant character of the evening entertainment? Why?" 3. What
important documents were shown to Nicholas by his uncle?
4. What is the strongest feeling aroused in the reader? 5. What
two feelings are blended in this chapter which show Dickens as
a master of style?

CHAPTER XXX

1. On the day when the Browdies left London, why did Ralph
Nickleby make a visit to the Cheeryble brothers? 2. On that
same day what secret commission for the Cheeryble brothers
did Nicholas undertake? 3. Did Madeline Bray show strength
or weakness of character? 4. Should she have abandoned her
father and cared more for herself? 5. Explain her position in
life. 6. Why did the Cheeryble brothers befriend her?

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 601

7. Dickens said that the character of these brothers was taken
from real life. Have you ever known any one like them?

8. Do they seem natural in the story?

CHAPTER XXXI

1. In what way did Nicholas sacrifice his feelings in the se¬
cret commission he undertook for the Cheeryble brothers?
2. Describe the visit of the mad gentleman next door to the
Nickleby cottage.

CHAPTER XXXII

1. What duel took place in this book? 2. What was the
cause? 3. Is a duel ever justifiable? 4. Was it against the
law in England at that time? 5. How do you know? 6. Com¬
pare the characters of Sir Mulberry Hawk and Lord Frederick
Verisopht.

CHAPTER XXXIII

1. What request did Arthur Gride make of Ralph Nickleby?
2. What exchange of favors was planned? 3. What was the
idea of Dickens concerning marriages for money? 4. What
argument did Ralph Nickleby use with Mr. Bray?

CHAPTER XXXIV

Prepare this chapter as the act of a play in three scenes.
Scene I. Time: Evening. Place: Living room of Arthur
Gride. Persons: Arthur Gride, Peg Sliderskew, Newman Noggs.

Scene II. Time: Later the same evening. Place: Ralph
Nickleby’s office. Persons: Ralph Nickleby and Newman
Noggs.

Scene III. Time: Still later the same evening. Place: On
the street. Persons: Nicholas Nickleby and Newman Noggs.

602

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XXXV

1. What plea did Nicholas Nickleby make of Mr. Bray?
2. What plea did Nicholas make of Madeline Bray? 3. What
offer does Nicholas make to Arthur Gride?

CHAPTER XXXVI

Describe the wedding of Arthur Gride, making use of the fol¬
lowing words:

Arthur Gride

Nicholas

cruel

angry

Peg Sliderskew

Nickleby

dream

loss

Ralph Nickle¬

Kate Nickleby

remorse

away

by

Mr. Bray

funeral

dazed

bottle green

Madeline

fall

coach

white favors

Bray

knocked down

CHAPTER XXXVII

1. What surprise did Arthur Gride receive when he went
home from Mr. Bray’s home on the day of Mr. Bray’s death?
2. What proposition did Ralph Nickleby make to Mr. Squeers
regarding Peg Sliderskew?

CHAPTER XXXVIII

1. Describe the dramatic scene between Mr. Squeers and
Peg Sliderskew, with the intervention of Newman Noggs and
Frank Cheeryble. 2. How did Newman Noggs get his infor¬
mation respecting Mr. Squeers? 3. What was the weapon he
used? 4. Who found the address of Peg Sliderskew? 5. What
was the object of Squeers?

CHAPTERS XXXIX AND XL

1. Describe the condition of Madeline Bray after the death
of her father. 2. Who was her nurse? 3. Where was she

QUESTIONS AND EXERCISES 603

staying? 4. What advice did Mrs. Nickleby give Nicholas
regarding Kate and Frank Cheeryble? 5. Why did Nicholas
refuse to act on this advice? 6. In what unusual way did the
Cheeryble brothers show kindness to Smike after his health
became impaired? 7. To what place did Nicholas and Smike
go?

CHAPTER XLI

I. Why did Mr. Charles Cheeryble call upon Ralph Nickleby?

2. Describe the visit of Ralph Nickleby to the Snawley home.

3. Why did Arthur Gride refuse to let Ralph Nickleby enter
his house, and why did he speak fearfully from an upper
window? 4. Why did Ralph Nickleby call at the house of
Cheeryble Brothers after Gride and Snawley refused to talk
to him? 5. What did Newman Noggs tell Ralph at Cheeryble
Brothers’ house? 6. What advice did Charles Cheeryble give
Ralph? 7. Describe the interview of Ralph with Squeers at the
police station. 8. What advice did Ralph give Squeers at
this time? 9. In what manner did Squeers respond? 10. Of
what crime was Squeers accused?

II. Describe the second visit of Ralph to Cheeryble Brothers
in order to get important information according to the message
of Tim Linkinwater. 12. What information did Brooker give
Ralph Nickleby at Cheeryble Brothers? 13. Describe the effect
of the terrible disclosure of Brooker on Ralph Nickleby.

CHAPTER XLII

1. What was the attitude of Nicholas towards Madeline
Bray, and what was his request to the Cheeryble brothers on
account of this? 2. Was this foolish on the part of Nicholas?
3. Is Dickens inconsistent here in making a lack of money a
great drawback in selecting a wife? 4. Has he shown any
different view before? 5. Were Kate and Nicholas both taking
too many chances in losing their greatest happiness in life?
6. Do you think Nicholas right or wrong according to present-
day customs? 7. Was Kate like the present girl? 8. Was
she a girl any brother would like to have for a sister?
9. Describe the death of Ralph Nickleby.

604

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY

CHAPTER XLIII

1. Describe the dinner party in this book at which time there
were three engagements announced. 2. Who were responsible
for this happy occasion? How? 3. What change in circum¬
stances did Newman Noggs experience at the close of this
story ?

CHAPTER XLIV

1. Describe the last time Kate saw Mr. Mantalini. 2. What
was learned about his circumstances at that time? 3. Why
did Nicholas pay a second visit to Yorkshire? 4. What
was the fate of Mr. Squeers? Of Peg Sliderskew? 5. What
charges were preferred against those two people? 6. For what
reason did John Browdie visit Dotheboys School after Nicholas
told him the fate of Squeers? 7. What did John Browdie do
at the school at this time? 8. Describe the fate of the school.
9. Is John Browdie a likable character? Why?

GENERAL QUESTIONS

1. A coincidence is the coinciding or meeting, accidentally, of
the same ideas, the same things, or people in some way con¬
nected. Mention a few coincidences in this book. Does
Dickens make too much use of coincidence? 2. What can be
said of the religious element in the character of Dickens? Give
examples of this. 3. What scene is the most humorous in the
book? Prepare it for reading. 4. What scene is the most pa¬
thetic? Prepare it for reading. 5. What scene is the most
dramatic? Prepare it for reading. 6. Do you think the death
of Smike injures the story, or is it a natural part of the events?

' •; 13

• >

j

\

Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process.
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide
Treatment Date:

AUG 1996

HBBftKEEFER

PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, INC.

1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066
(412) 779-2111

I